Duality
by Eric Draven201
Summary: After attempting to rescue Vergil from Hell, Dante winds up in Texas with no memory of his previous life as a devil hunter. Rated for language and violence.
1. Manhunt

HI! I'm Baaaaaack! So here's a new fic... a lil' something to chew on. As per all fics I write... In no way, shape or form do I own the canon characters from DMC.

PS... if you happen to see any mistakes, please let me know about it.

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Chapter 1: Manhunt

Dante sat on the railings of the fire escape just outside of his bedroom window. He titled his head towards the pale moon light that bathed his skin of equal pallor. He then peered out over the cityscape in deep contemplation, thinking of many things and then nothing, all at once. His mind swam in a sea of scenarios and strategies, assessing...

"Dante," the sound of his name cut into his thoughts, "You okay?" He didn't answer and the voice tried again, "The pizza just came, would you like some?" He looked just over his shoulder to see Lady with a very concerned expression on her face. He faked a smile for her and answered, "No, you go on ahead. I'm gonna sit out here a little while longer." Lady had known Dante long enough to know that there were few things that he'd pass up and he had never refused pizza. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah."

"You're still not thinking about what that guy said, are you?"

"Huh? No," he lied.

Lady stepped closer, through the window and onto the fire escape. "Dante, you have always been a terrible liar." He only shrugged in response. "What that man– that devil said, it can't be trusted. It was probably the desperate ramblings of the weak, begging not to be killed. What makes you think that _he's _even alive?"

"I spent a huge chunk of my life beginning to accept that my brother was probably dead and then a random demon came along and threw a monkey wrench in all of that. Now I want to know for sure, excuse me for wanting a little closure," Dante's attention went back to moon and he continued, this time a little softer, "I have to go and see for myself."

"What if it is a trap?"

"What if it is? I'll have to find out when I get there," Dante swung both of his legs over to the other side of the railing that faced the street and said, "For the record, I never really stopped believing that he was alive... I didn't feel it, in here." He placed a hand over his heart. "I don't know," he finally said after a pause, "Maybe it's a twin thing." With that, he leapt off the second floor fire escape without a major issue. His trademark red coat flapped upwards in the wind as if he had flew down to street blow. Once he had landed on the pavement, Dante walked off into the night.

Lady crept back into the window and shut it behind her. "What was all that about," a voice called from the doorway behind her. Lady turned to see Trish leaning against the doorjamb seductively licking the tomato sauce from her fingers. It always boggled Lady's mind that Trish continued to do that even outside of Dante's presence, but she decided to give the blonde devil the benefit of a doubt that it was being done unconsciously.

"It was something a demon said to him the other day. He was called out on a job and a demon spilled his guts about Vergil's whereabouts. Now he's hopping on the bandwagon, hoping to find him." Lady's description of the scenario was so simply put, as if it wasn't a big deal that Trish had to pause to piece it all together.

"Sooo... Dante ran off to find the brother that's probably already dead?" Trish always had a gift for frankness.

"Yeah and he's been holding out on hope for such a long time. I just don't want to see him hurt by false hope. I don't want him chasing pipe dreams," Lady sighed.

Dante bounded to his local haunts, stopping off at Love Planet first. He made his way to the bar area, glancing at the stage every so often. He planted himself on a stool and began picking his poison, just loud enough over the sound system, "Whisk—"

The bartender cut in with an already finished drink, "Whiskey Sour? Compliments of the gentleman at the booths." "Thanks," Dante said, tipping the bartender. He scanned the sunken-in area where the leather booths resided, just below the main stage. His eyes trailed a buxom brunette from her rather interesting, upside down position on the pole and down onto one booth in particular. In fact, this booth was surrounded by Love Planet's very own A Squad. He had an idea who tonight's "sugar daddy" was.

Dante downed his drink and sauntered over to the booth. As he got closer, he could hear a loud voice with a thick Brooklyn accent regaling the girls with his false tales of demon hunting. The familiar voice let out a hearty laugh. Dante could hear, but could not see the speaker in the sea of women.

"...And then I socked it with a powerful left and the demon fell to the ground, dead. That's when I rescued the woman who made the call."

"Oooh, tell me more," one dancer said in a sultry voice, hoping for a bigger tip.

"Well, let's see," the New Yorker began, "There was that one time I exorcised a demon from a little girl."

"Was that before or after you saved her from a burning building," Dante cut in. The group fell silent and looked into Dante's direction. "Dante," the women screamed as they ran to hug their long lost patron. "Long time, no see, Dante," a blonde said. "Where have you been," a red head asked as she wrapped her arms around his waist without any intention of letting go.

"Dante, you little rascal," the owner of the Brooklyn accent stepped out from the crowd. It was a short, swarthy Italian-American man, dressed in a blue suit with a matching cap, to hide his bald spot. "Enzo," Dante said, "It's been a while." The two men began play punching for a moment, almost like it was an ancient greeting custom. "Hey, Girls," Enzo exclaimed to the crowd that was doting on the silver-haired man, "I knew this guy, back when he was still wet behind the ears!"

"Hey, hey! I may have been young, but I wasn't as naïve as you seem to think I was. I remember that I was the one who saved you from Vergil _and_ that ordeal at Bobby's Cellar."

"OH! Low blow," Enzo declared, "I'm down for the count!"

"So, tell me about your friends," Dante said, "How come you're so popular tonight?" As he began to scope the room, he could see that the other patrons were rather upset that Enzo was monopolizing the dancers' time. "Well," Enzo said stretching the first word as he debated telling his old friend, "I helped the local boys in blue crack a major case and earned a _major_ retainer fee."

"Oh, so you are still an informant," Dante whispered, as he began to notice the red head eyeing his lap.

"How come I ain't seen you around these parts? You ain't married or nothin'?" Dante froze at Enzo's comment and so did the dancers. Dante put on a grin and began his damage control, downplaying the conversation, "No. No! _Noooo._" He shook his head and soon after holding out his forefinger and thumb, indicating "just a little." Enzo let out another one of his hearty laughs saying, "That explains it all. I knew a fellow as good looking as you couldn't stay unattached for long."

"That is when I actually do get around to proposing to her," Dante said holding up a blue velvet box.

"Awww," the girls cooed. "I'm jealous," one voice blurted out.

"Who's the lucky lil' lady?"

"Wouldn't you like to know. I didn't come here for all that... I need a little information."

"I could tell you... if the price is right," Enzo said slyly.

"What ever happened to us going way back," Dante pouted.

"Awww," the Girls collectively swooned as Dante was adding more to his refined features.

"Okay, fine," Enzo threw his hands up, "You win. What do you need to know?"

"Thought you'd never ask," Dante grinned, "What do you know about this guy?" He passed a photo to Enzo. He looked at the picture and signaled for the girls to disperse. They left, but not before the red head planted a kiss on Dante's lips. "You see," Dante whined, "That's why I can't come here anymore. These girls are gonna get me into trouble." Enzo only chuckled.

His face became serious as he studied the picture more closely. "I know him. His name's Frankie. He's the head of occult shop. The word on the street is that he's under Mafia protection."

"Where can I find his shop?"

"Why? What do you have planned, Dante," Enzo's face began exhibiting deep worry lines, "This guy's got connections that could make even _you_ disappear."

"I'm not worried about all of that, and neither should you be. Just tell me where I can find him." Enzo couldn't help but to fall for Dante's carefree attitude. Whenever he put on that façade, most people felt at ease.

"I just don't want to see you killed."

"In case you haven't noticed Enzo, it's _very_ hard to kill me."

"I know, I know, with you being a devil and all, but this guy deals in the occult. Has it ever occurred to you that he can whip up some kind of potion that could have you drop dead?" Enzo made a very valid point, but Dante wasn't that concerned about it. Vergil's life was on the line and he needed to find this man, even if it was the last thing he did.

"Okay," the Italian-American, admitted defeat again, "Don't say I didn't warn you." He scrawled down an address and a small map on a cocktail napkin. "Please, be careful, kiddo." "Will do," Dante said, passing Enzo a hundred dollar bill, "For your trouble." Dante was already steps from the door when Enzo shouted, "Just come back alive so that you can propose to that lil' lady of yours!" Dante didn't bother to turn around. He only did a small wave in response.

Dante left the seedy little gentleman's club and made his way down the street. With any god willing, he'd find this man tonight. He made a stop at Devil May Cry and changed his clothes. He took off his beloved leather and began dressing in plain clothes (yes folks, Dante owns regular clothes). Dante pulled a plain black tee shirt down over his well-defined abs and just over his dark blue jeans. He finished his look with a hoodie and a pair of black and white low-topped Chuck Taylor Converses with red shoe strings.

"Where are you going," Lady's voice came from just behind him.

"Out." Lady gave him The Look; that look that would instantly get a spouse to tell the truth.

"Just Out... I'll be back in a few hours."

"I'm going with you," Lady said as a matter-of-factly.

"No, you're not," Dante's voice making his resolve seem a little half-hearted, maybe distracted? Dante turned around and faced the woman and Lady took in the sight before her. In those clothes, he looked just like a regular young man, as if he was a senior in high school. "I'm working on a short timeline. Don't wait up tonight, babe," he gave her an endearing kiss on the cheek. "Dante I'd feel a little more comfortable going with you tonight."

She gave him the puppy dog eyes and he just about melted. "Fine," he sighed, "What are you wearing?"

"This," Lady said referring to her current look. His eyes immediately fell to her armored skirt and then back up to her eyes. "Too much," she asked. He nodded. "Want me to change," Lady asked. He nodded again.

"I was going for subtle, but we can work this out." Dante left the room and reappeared with some black boots, a black mini-skirt and some fishnet stockings. He also presented some black lip stick. "So I take it that our cover is a goth/emo couple." Dante only nodded. She changed into the outfit that Dante provided and they headed out the door.

They walked down the street like young lovers, holding hands with fingers intertwined. It wasn't hard to act the part. Dante followed his map to the address that Enzo wrote down. "So what's the plan," Lady whispered. "We'll play it by ear and see," Dante answered. They walked into the little non-descript shop to the sound of a slightly rusted bell ringing. An elderly, dark haired man with glasses, who matched the photo, greeted the couple, "Shops closing in about twenty minutes, guys."

"Hey, I got a question. We got this old Ouija board at home and its not working as well as it used to. What are we doing wrong?"

"They mostly work well when you're near a spiritual nexus."

"How do you find them?"

"It's a little complicated, because they move around a lot. It's important to get as close them as possible because it's the exactly point where the planes cross. There spirits can come and go freely. That oughta boost your calls to the other side. "

"To find one, you need to—" The old man was interrupted by a phone ringing. "I'm sorry," he said, "I have to take this."

Lady and Dante met in the center aisle. "What does a Ouija board have to do with opening a gate to Hell," Lady whispered. "It's only a cover story," Dante whispered his reply, "The important thing is to get him to talk about locating a nexus."

"Sorry about that, son," the elderly shopkeeper said, "It was a rather important call. So, you said that you wanted to find out how to find a nexus, right? The quickest way I can think of is to use a scrying crystal."

"A scrying crystal?"

"Well, these crystals are used by many different Wiccan orders to locate power sources."

"Ah," Dante gave a understanding reply. The phone rung again and the man picked up.

He and Lady split up and traveled down separate aisles, browsing the shelves. By the time Dante made his way to the middle of aisle where the 'potions' were located, the old man ended his call. "How much is this," Dante asked the shopkeeper as he held up a brown vial labeled 'Love Spell'.

"Normally, fifteen dollars, but for you two," the old man smiled, "it'll be five dollars."

"I'm sold," Dante said, "Just don't tell her." He whispered the latter. Dante brought the bottle and a crinkled five dollar bill to the old man so that he could ring it up. As the man tinkered with antique cash register, Dante spied a glowing blue stone on the glass counter. He brought a hand to it. Once his fingers were within inches of it, it electrified the air around him, sparked and gave him a shock that rivaled Trish's when she was angry. The current flowed through his body and he dropped to the floor like a sack of potatoes.

Dante let out a low groan as he blinked his eyes open, trying to steady his doubled vision. Lady was standing over him with a concerned look on her face, as was the shopkeeper. "Kid? Kid," he exclaimed as he patted Dante's cheeks to wake him. When Dante's azure eyes met his hazel ones, he breathed a sigh of relief. "You gave us quite a scare there, kid," he helped Dante to sit up. He adjusted his spectacles and chuckled, "You must have some sort of supernatural background. I have never seen the stone react to anyone before. You sure you're not the son of some angel or devil?"

Dante righted himself to his feet and attempted to steady his swimming head, "I wouldn't know... I was adopted."

The man handed Dante his bag, and chuckled again saying, "Ya'll take care now." Dante and Lady left the shop and she was the one to speak up, "What the hell was that?!"

"If I had to guess, it was some kind of demon ward."

"So that means that your cover was blown?"

"Not necessarily, it just means that he's just an old man with a demon ward. It's still possible that he doesn't know what he has."

"What next? Do we come back and stake the place out tomorrow to find what you're looking for?"

"Well, you half right," Dante grinned, "We'll come back later tonight."

The old shopkeeper had an old fashioned phone up to his ear as he watched the couple from his shop window. "We had a _visitor_ today," he said.

"Was it a demon," a raspy voice came from the other side of the call.

"No... The stone tells me that he maybe a half-demon or less. He would have died if he was anymore than that."

"Is he a threat?"

"No. He seems like a kid who's completely unaware of his lineage. I'll keep you posted if anything changes. Goodbye."

Some thirty minutes later Lady and Dante were at the shop's door again. It was completely dark inside save for the glowing stone. The old man was long gone. Dante pulled two skinny, metallic tools from his pocket. "Dante?! Where did you get those," Lady gasped. She was completely appalled as to what he was about to do. Lady was no stranger to lock picking. There had been many of jobs that required the skill. But Dante was about to break into a shop of a kindly old man. "Either, I break down the door and he _will _know that I was here or I pick the lock and he'll never notice."

"What about security systems? And just where did you learn how to pick locks?"

"Well," Dante began, keeping the bulk of his brain power trained on the lock, "When we were inside, there were no cameras or even an alarm keypad... And..." With the skillful flick of a wrist he had the door open. "...You should already know the answer to your second question."

"What?"

"I was raised on the streets, _duh_!" She gave him a playful punch to the arm and followed him inside.

"Lady, keep an eye out for anything that can locate a spiritual nexus."

"How about the scrying crystals? They can locate any power source."

"Or... How 'bout something I can touch _without_ getting electrocuted?"

"Monkey's paw," Lady questioned as she held up a mummified hand.

"Eww! Well, at least you're thinking."

"Look Dante... We're running out of time and we can't be picky about what we use. You are not alone in this! I could find the location with the crystal and you can open the portal."

"Well now! That sounds like a plan," Dante grinned as he kissed her full on the lips. "Grab the crystal and let's get out of here." Lady obeyed and Dante reset the lock. They left the shop mainly undisturbed. However, once the pair stepped outside, demons had materialized around them. The two stood back to back to each other. "Damn," Dante interjected, "Never a night off!"

He pulled Ebony and Ivory from the back of his jeans and tossed Ebony to Lady. He kissed Ivory and said, "Never leave home with out 'em." The couple fired at will, spraying bullets into the circling demons. Dante handed Lady his gun and scooped up the woman into her arms. He proceeded to spin; somehow giving the bullets she fired a wider rage. Before she could get motion sickness, He air hiked out the spin. She let out a raucous, "Wahoo!" She was having fun. That was one word that she'd never equated to devil-hunting before.

They were back on the ground continuing melee attacks against the remaining demons. Lady was holding her own well as Dante deftly yanked a dagger from the claws of a nearby demon. He sent the demon flying into a wall and threw the dagger into the forehead of another that dared to sneak up behind Lady.

The two breathed a short breath of victory. That is, until another demon managed to slink up behind Dante. It grabbed him and stabbed a sword through the palm of his right hand, his back, before exiting his through his chest in one swift motion. Blood spilled out of the half-devil's mouth. Lady could clearly see the tip of the sword jutting out from Dante's chest with his blood still shimmering in the moonlight. She had seen him injured before in battle, but it still made her cringe to watch it happen. She kept telling herself that he'll survive it, but on some level, she believed that any vital hit could do him in.

"Die... Son of Sparda," the demon let out a guttural roar. "No thanks;" Dante said cockily despite choking on his own blood, "I'd rather not." The demon yanked Dante's left arm back, breaking it in two places. He let out a heart-wrenching scream in pain. _Oh, Dante,_ Lady thought. Sure, he was practically immortal, but he could still feel pain. It must be awful to be able to live for so long and still feel all of the unpleasantries that go along with it.

"Lady," he managed through the pain, "Shoot the gun!"

"I can't. I don't want to hurt you!"

"Do it! Take the shot."

"I can't!"

"Do it, now! ... I trust you."

Lady took in a breath, cocked back the hammer and squeezed the trigger. The bullet slid from the clip into the chamber and out of the barrel. With a muzzle flash, the bullet sprang forth to its intended target; past Dante's left side barely missing his heart and into the quivering organ of the beast behind him. The demon fell backwards, taking Dante with him. She instinctively dropped the gun and ran to Dante's side. The demon that had momentarily captured Dante had disappeared into the ether as did his sword.

"Dante. Dante?" He let out a small groan at the sound of his name. She moved to help him up, but he blocked the advance by putting up his hand. He was seething in pain.

"See," he wheezed, "I had faith that you'd do it."

"Oh, Dante," she said sweetly as she wiped up his bloodied mouth with her sleeve. Only when his wounds began to heal and breathing evened out, did he get up. "We got what we need... Let's head home," he said.

_

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_

Love it or Burn it?


	2. Enter the Ether

Chapter 2: Enter the Ether

Finding a hotspot couldn't wait and Dante needed to find it now. Once at home, he found a map of the city and spread it across his desk. Lady promptly began scrying for a location and Dante pondered how he could get his hands on Yamato. True, opening a portal could be done without his brother's keepsake sword, but having it would make things a little easier. Dante looked up and watched Lady slowly swing the crystal over the map as she scanned it quadrant by quadrant.

Trish walked through the office doors to find that Lady and Dante were already home. Lady was leaning over Dante's desk staring intently at a map with a crystal in hand and Dante was in a trance, sitting Indian-styled on the floor nearby with Rebellion spread across his lap.

"What is going on here," asked Trish.

"Looking for a spiritual nexus," Lady replied without glancing away from the map.

"Okay... so, what's he doing," Trish then asked.

"Calling for Yamato," Lady answered almost deadpanned.

"Nero has it doesn't he? And isn't Fortuna quite a trip from here?"

Lady shrugged.

"How long has he been at it," Trish followed with yet another question.

"About an hour and you're breaking my concentration," Dante answered without opening an eye.

"But Yamato isn't your sword. You gave it to Nero."

"I know."

"So how can you just 'call for it'?"

"It's a twin thing... you wouldn't understand."

"It makes sense," Lady cut in, "If the sword belongs to his bloodline anyone who is remotely related to the original wielder, should be able to have some control over it."

"Back to the map, woman," Dante said. He went silent again, focusing on his brother's blade. In theory, it was an easy deal. There had been countless times where he had called Rebellion to his side during battle; however it had never been done over vast distances. The other challenge was that Yamato had never been his sword to begin with. There had been times where he had fought with it, hell he had even been taught by his father on how to use it. But this was a blade that given to his brother with Vergil's fighting style and outlook in mind. It was tailor made for Vergil, so to speak.

How could he lock in on it? He knew that Nero kept the blade inside of his devil bringer and that the man was in Fortuna, at least a day's journey away.

_Maybe if I think like Vergil, _Dante thought. Could it be that easy; just telling himself to think like Vergil would have? He could picture it. The O-katana that rested in near darkness, illuminated by only a blue glow. Now all he had to do was to reach for it. Almost out of instinct, Dante raised an arm with the other still resting comfortably on Rebellion.

"Duck," Dante uttered softly. The women were not one to question Dante when it came to his acute senses, so they obeyed. Not even a full second later, Yamato came crashing through one of the shop's front windows and into Dante's outstretched hand. Dante stood up with Rebellion in his left hand and Yamato in his right. The two female hunters stared in disbelief at the sword in his right hand. He had actually done it. He handed Yamato to Lady and said, "This should help in boosting the crystal's power. I gonna go take a nap. Wake me if anything comes up."

Lady took Yamato and nearly dropped it on the floor. It was much longer and heavier than she remembered. True to his word, Dante curled up into the couch that flanked a wall near the stairs. Lady tried with the crystal for about ten more minutes. Just when she was ready to give up, the crystal dropped of its own accord onto the map and stood on its facetted edge at a cross corner. "13th and M street," she read aloud.

"What are you waiting for," Dante interjected as he hopped off the couch, "Let's go."

"Hey," Trish began with a hand on Dante's shoulder, "Are you sure you want him back?"

"What do you mean? Of course I do. He's my brother."

"He's been in Hell this entire time and now you're going to bring him back, just like that," she snapped her fingers to reiterated her point. "Dante, how do you think he will react when he finds out that he has been brought back to the Human World? You think it's going to be all hugs and cheers when he gets back? Don't forget that he _chose_ the Demon World over everything."

"I get it. But we will cross that bridge when we get there."

"I'm not sure that you do," he could see the concern in Trish's eyes, "Lady and I care about you and we would rather not see you set yourself up for disappointment."

"Time's a-wasting," Dante said turning to Lady as he sheathed Rebellion, "Let's go." He turned away from Trish. Her hand slipped off his shoulder as he walked away and slumped to her side. "Good luck," she whispered.

Lady and Dante hopped onto his motorcycle and took off to the streets the crystal had indicated. Soon they had arrived. Both got off of the bike and Dante uttered, "Lead the way, Lady"

Lady held the crystal out in the palm of her hand and it began floating into a vertical position. "The crystal is pointing—" Lady craned her head to the direction of the top floor of a high-rise building, "—up." Dante grabbed Yamato and wrapped an arm around firmly around Lady. "Take a deep breath," he said, keeping his eyes on his destination. He bent his knees and took off like a rocket. Dante arched his back slightly, just enough to keep him streamlined, just enough height to get to the rooftop of the of the fifteen story building without using his Devil Trigger.

"Mom," a child shouted at the sight of Dante and Lady propelling past his window, "There's a man and a woman flying!"

"That's nice, Billy," she shouted back.

Dante hovered some ten feet above his landing zone, before dropping into position. His landing was a little heavy, leaving imprints of his combat boots in the concrete. He let Lady down and walked to the edge of the building and peered down to the still bustling streets below. "Where to?"

Lady could feel the static in the air. The nexus must be near. She dropped the crystal over the ledge and watched as it ended its freefall about ten feet below. It floated there, as if it was suspended in clear gelatin. "Right here, Dante," she said pointing down to the crystal below. He nodded and began the ritual to opening a portal to the Underworld. Dante mumbled chants in a demonic language to himself as he unsheathed Yamato. He walked over to the ledge where the crystal floated. Red electricity crackled around him as he neared the nexus. Dante continued mumbling the demonic words as he brought the blade to his left hand and sliced into it, in the same fashion his brother had done in Temen-ni-gru so many years ago. He held his bleeding hand over the ledge, with droplets falling onto the crystal. The self-inflicted wound began to close and it became a struggle against his own body to hold it open, at least until the portal formed. Dante stuck a finger into the open wound in the palm of his hand, and torn at his skin to wedge it open wider. He winced slightly, but pushed on with the chants, determined not to interrupt it or mess it up in anyway. Dante finished up the chant by repeating the last word three times which meant 'open.' More energy rose up crackling, with a shockwave that threw Dante and Lady back. A portal form just in front of them with a wind whipping past their bodies. Dante laid Yamato to the side and began his walk to the portal. "Dante, wait," Lady shouted as she got up to walk towards him. He stopped, turned towards her and held her in a warm embrace. Lady wished that this moment could last forever.

She laid her head against his chest, allowing his heartbeat to soothe her. "Come back to me," she nearly whispered. Dante placed the velvet ring box in Lady's hand without taking his eyes off of hers. His embrace became tighter as he went to kiss her. Dante brought his slightly parted lips to hers. The passion, the fire was there. As his tongue gently danced with hers, she could swear that she saw fireworks. "I love you," he said softly in her ear. They both knew what had to be done, but she still didn't want to let go.

With that, he took off and ran full speed into the portal. Tears saturated her cheeks as her heart began to break when she watched her love rush off into peril. Lady opened the box and became weak in the knees at the sight. A two and half carat, princess cut diamond engagement ring. The tears came harder. "You had better come back alive," Lady whispered.

She felt a presence behind her. She turned to see Trish walking up towards her. "I couldn't very well let you two do this all on your own," Trish said flashing a grin reassuring Lady of her support. "So Dante went in already?"

"Yeah."

"Now, all we do is wait." The two women stood silent near the portal waiting at the ready for something to emerge... whether it was friend or foe.

--

With a bright flash, Dante was in the Underworld landing on a boulder. He always found it a bit unsettling down here. Blinding lights came from all directions to assault his vision. The Demon World was always bright and it reminded him of a silver daguerreotype or a very well done black and white photo. He had wondered on his first trip here when he was eighteen, if this world meant to be a perversion of Heaven itself. After all, it would make sense; given that the Fallen of yesteryear were the higher-ups around here.

Dante took a step further and more boulders snapped into place in front of him creating a land bridge. Even that sent a shiver up his spine. Why did Hell feel the need to roll the welcome mat out for him? Still he pushed on, with the lonely sound of his boots clacking to keep him company. He walked up to an iron door with the words bannered across the lintel: Abandon all hope, all ye who enter here. (You could practically see the sweat drop) _Are they trying to make fun of me?_

"If I had a nickel for every time I heard that phrase," Dante said to no one in particular. He then thought _I had better not find Vergil in a block of ice._ He heaved the door to see a labyrinth of stairs before him. "Are you serious?!" One could see why he was pissed. As soon as he stepped through the door, the maze seemed to have stretched on for days. Each set of stairs twisted and even ran upside down like a psychology test gone awry. At the end of every other flight was a full length mirror. Dante figured that it acted as a teleporter, but the question was to where. It held the same possibility that one could transport him straight to Vergil or to another point in the labyrinth while another could send him into a combat a demon that he wasn't completely prepared to fight. He took a deep breath and stepped forward.

--

"Don't sweat it," Trish commented to Lady as she filed her nails, "Dante will be back before you know it."

"I hope you are right," Lady replied deadpanned, glancing down at the ring she wouldn't dare to wear until she saw him again.

--

"Wahhhhhh! Ooof!" Dante screamed as he was unexpectedly dumped from a mirror that hovered fifteen feet above the ground. He jumped up to his feet, giving himself a once over, making sure that all of his body parts were still intact. Dante then began to dust himself off until he heard the crashing steps behind him. He turned slowly to see a thirty foot tall (that's over 9 meters for those using the metric system) devil standing behind him. "Oh, my—" Dante's eyes grew wide.

"Prepare to die, Son of Sparda," it bellowed. Dante was sure it was holding a flail-like weapon, but that was not what concerned him in the least. What really caught his eye or anyone else's for that matter was the fact that the monster in question was a big steaming pile of...

"Shit," Dante exclaimed with a disgusted look on his face. The monster's 'skin' dripped and oozed with every movement. It swung its flail down at Dante which he able to quickly dodge. But the half-devil also had to keep in mind to avoid the falling excrement of the demon. Dante rolled away, narrowly avoiding the brown drops. At this point, Dante didn't care if he defeated the devil or not... he just wanted out. The smell alone was terrifying.

He spotted a mirror just behind the monster's left leg. Dante darted out of the way of another flail swing. "Never easy, is it," he whispered to himself. He kept his eyes on the devil, trying to anticipate its movements. Dante unsheathed Rebellion and held it back, charging it full of red energy. "I'm sorry Mr. Diarrhea, but I can't stay to play... I have people waiting on me." Dante cocked his armed back and launched Rebellion high, like a javelin. He didn't wait to see where it hit; he made a break for the mirror. Only when Rebellion landed next to the mirror, did Dante look up to see the demon staggering around blinded. "Damn you, Son of Sparda," it screamed in pain. Dante begrudgingly picked up the poo-covered sword and stepped through the mirror.

--

"I wonder what he's doing right now," Lady said aloud as she drew a new card from the top of a deck. She and Trish sat on the roof playing cards, which was the number one thing to do on long missions.

"Probably battling a shit demon," Trish commented nonchalantly as she rearranged the cards in her hand.

"Whaaa?!" Lady wasn't sure that she heard her right.

"Kidding," Trish said with a straight face as she placed her hand down, "Gin. Do you want to play again?"

--

Dante made the mistake of bringing his hand to his face. He'll never try that again. He continued down a new corridor, wiping his sword against the wall to mark his path and up another flight of stairs and into a new mirror.

He exited into a dark corridor (and just he was getting used to the bright lights). He made a right turn and down another long hall. Dante was just about to round another corridor, when he heard chattering and hissing. He stopped and opted to hide behind a large column. He peeked around the corner to two lizard-like creatures dressed in armor, talking to each other. "Blades," he said to himself.

He continued to watch. The two blades guarding a doorway, snapped to attention as two Faust demons came towards the door dragging a figure in tow. Only when they just about dropped it on the floor did Dante notice a tuft of white as its head unconsciously lolled back and forth. "Vergil," Dante found himself whispering. They entered the doorway with Vergil and returned empty handed. One Faust began arguing with the two Blades. Dante watched as they shouted back and forth in their demonic language.

"As much as I'd love to sit and watch this little soap opera," Dante began, talking to no one in particular, "I gotta break this up and get inside." He pulled out a glowing orb of Super Holy Water and kissed it. What makes this holy water superior is the fact that it is blessed by several different religious leaders. It is said to be much more potent than its regular counterpart. _Let's hope that the old nun was right about this. _"Fire in the hole," he shouted as he lobbed the orb like a grenade. The demons in front of the door were confused. Dante shifted his body back around the pillar and closed his ears and eyes. There was a blinding flash and a fizzling sound like soda when it's first opened. Dante peered around the corner to see both sets of devils reduced to a pile of hot ash. They didn't know what hit them.

Dante moved carefully for the doorway, trampling through the ashes. He walked in to see that the room looked like dungeon. From the irregular ceiling, Dante could tell that it was carved out from a cave. He looked around seeing chains on the walls and various torture instruments. His eyes were brought to a stone slab that centered in the room. He began to approach it, seeing that Vergil was chained down.

"Verge. Verge," his whisper filled the room. And there was no answer. He came closer to see his brother lying there with a black eye, a trail of dried blood just under his nose, and a busted lip. Dante had remembered that Vergil had been a little thin, but now... "Verge," Dante called softly again. He began to panic when he realized that he couldn't tell if Vergil was even breathing or not. _Am I too late?_ "Verge," again he called, placing a hand on his bare shoulder. God, his skin was so cold. It was like touching death. He shook his brother gently.

Dante watched as Vergil's eyes roll under his eyelids before opening halfway. Vergil winced and swallowed hard before his hoarse voice said, "Dante? You smell like shit." Dante chuckled, happy to see that Vergil was alive.

"You haven't changed a bit," Dante smiled warmly.

"Why have you come?"

"To get you, silly," Dante grunted as began breaking the chains with Rebellion.

"Please leave me, before they..." another hard swallow to catch his breath, "... catch you."

"That's not an option. Besides," Dante broke the final chain, "You'll miss the wedding."

"What? Who?"

"Lady and me." Dante helped Vergil off of the table. "Let's get out of here." Vergil stared at Dante in shock. "I'll explain once we're out."

The two brothers left the room. Dante didn't realize that Vergil was barefoot until they came to the ashes. The two tiptoed around it. "What h—," Vergil began to ask.

"I'll explain that one too."

The twins ran down the corridor rounding another at to the end of the hall where the mirror was located. Dante grabbed Vergil by the wrist, desperate not to let go. They raced down the stairs, Dante in front and Vergil trailing, just barely able to keep up. "So, Dante, did you get her knocked up?"

"You picked a hell of a time to show that your sense of humor is still intact," said Dante while panting.

"Just trying to make conversation," Vergil said innocently.

Dante gave uneasy chuckle as he looked at his brother. He went back to concentrating on finding his exit. Dante looked around frantically. This fork was NOT here before. _Eenie, meenie, miney, mo... no... Bubble gum, bubble gum in a dish... um._

"You don't remember, do you?"

"Shut the fuck up, Vergil!" Dante picked the center path and dashed towards it.

Down another corridor and into another mirror. "You never answered my question; is she pregnant?"

"No, not yet." Vergil tried to imagine a home with little Dantes running around. It disturbed him deeply.

There was another mirror, straight ahead. The two jumped through to see the shit monster _still_ shuffling around, blindly groping around the room. "I will find you seed of Sparda!" Vergil stood in the center of the room, staring at the devil with his mouth agape. Dante pulled Vergil away, narrowly missing a dripping. "Is that... what I think it is?"

"Yes," Dante hissed quietly, "It's a devil made out of shit... Let's get the fuck out of here!" They exited through another mirror that appeared in front of them. The brothers arrived at another fork and Dante rushed into the corridor on the left. Up a set of upside down stairs and into another mirror... The two found themselves standing before the gates of Hell. Without hesitation, Dante pulled Vergil through and across the self-forming land bridge. They were almost home-free.

Sensing that danger was afoot, Dante turned to see a horde of demons gaining on them. He stood to fight. Dante looked to his side to see Vergil standing there in a fighting stance. "What are you doing?"

"Standing my ground," Vergil said.

"I can take care of them," Dante said. He looked over his shoulder and could make out the apartment building just beyond the portal he created. "The portal's right there... go ahead; I'll be there in one second to seal it forever."

"No."

"Fine then." Dante turned and shoved Vergil. Vergil grasped at Dante, but only caught onto his exposed amulet. The chain broke from the force. Vergil went flying backwards out of the portal landing on the rooftop in the human world. Dante held the flat edge of his sword against the horde. It was effective enough at holding back the masses, but Dante really didn't see an out here. He ran his hand against the sharp edge of his sword, drawing some blood. He began chanting as he thought, _if I can't get back, then I'll make sure that they can't get out_. _They won't get past me._

--

The two women stood as they watched a figure tumbled backwards out of the crackling gateway and crashed into the concrete wall behind him. Lady and Trish rushed to its side to see that it was Vergil. "Did he just toss Vergil out of Hell," Trish questioned aloud. That wasn't outside the realm of possibility, considering how emaciated the man was.

Vergil briefly opened his eyes and said before succumbing to unconsciousness, "Please... you have to... save... Dante." They could see, that he was clutching Dante's amulet tightly, close to his chest. This alarmed Lady. "DAAAANTE," she screamed as she ran to the portal. Trish laid Vergil's head tenderly onto the ground, before running after Lady. "Lady, wait!"

Lady watched in horror as the portal began to get smaller. "DANTE," She called again with tears in her eyes.

--

Meanwhile, just inside of the gateway, Dante could hear his name being called. "Ya hear that? That's my girl calling and I'm gonna make sure that none of you are going to ever get at her." Just then, a Frost crashed in Rebellion, causing it to crack down the middle, due to the rapid freezing. The ice melted just as quickly as a Phantom charged into Dante and caused Rebellion's blade to break into three pieces. The pieces and the hilt were flung out of the portal.

--

Trish sensed danger and pulled Lady back away from the closing portal and the rain of blood covered metal. Both looked on as the portal closed, for good. It was all over for Lady once the static that kept her close to Dante all night, disappered into the ether.

"NOOOOO," Lady cried, "You promised that you would come back to me! You promised!" Tears trickled down her face in full force. Trish didn't know what to do. She held Lady in her arms in an attempt to console her. Lady's legs gave out on her as she sunk to the ground. Trish remained there, holding her, until they were both on the ground. "You promised," Lady whispered quietly.

* * *

_Beware the poo-monster! I try to proofread a lot... but if you see anything that escaped me, please let me know. Reviews earn you hugs, kisses and candy! _


	3. The Other side

Chapter 3: The Other side

An unsettling silence permeated the ride back to the shop. Trish had brought her car, but Dante had left his motorcycle at the apartment complex. The black sedan was the more prudent choice to transport the wounded half-devil back home. Trish loaded up Yamato and the pieces of Rebellion in the trunk just before carefully laying the unconscious Vergil on the backseat. After everything was settled, Trish turned to the raven-haired huntress to offer her a ride.

"What about Dante's bike," Lady asked, "We can't just leave it behind."

Trish thought hard before replying. She could see that leaving the motorcycle behind wasn't a choice of practicality for Lady. Sure she could pick it up again in the morning, but to her it was like she was really leaving Dante behind. She realized now that she had just put her friend in an awkward position; a car ride with the very man her boyfriend sacrificed himself to save. Also there was the issue that Lady wasn't exactly emotionally stable at the moment. Sure, she had put on a brave front for Trish, but those human emotions were going to take its toll and it was best for it not to happen while speeding through the streets on a motorcycle. Trish wanted to say it all, but never uttered a word.

"I'll ride it back," Lady volunteered herself. This could go both ways for the woman. Riding Dante's bike back, could be therapeutic, where she could have time to work out what happened while feeling closer to him; or the effects could be disastrous, she could face all of the day's events again, all too quickly, thrusting her into an emotional break down. Trish could only act as a friend, hoping for the best, but expecting the worst. "We'll meet you there," the blonde demoness finally agreed.

Trish drove on, occasionally glancing through her rearview mirror at Vergil's seemingly sleeping form. Before taking off, she had wrapped him in a spare blanket that she kept in the trunk. She watched as his head lightly lolled with the rumbling of the car. His silence more than anything scared her. Not so much as a mumble or a moan or a groan from him to let her know that he even still alive. She could only trust that his demon's blood would help him pull through.

Lady raced through the city streets hoping that the winds around her would blow her tears away. She wanted so desperately to cry all over again, but she wouldn't let herself. Least of all, she wouldn't do it in front of Trish and Vergil again. "Dante wouldn't have any of it," she told herself. She pushed on, back to the shop

Some moments later, the two women met up again. Both parked their vehicles and continued up the stoop, through the double doors. Lady held one open as Trish carried Vergil draped over her shoulder, like a baby. She laid him down on the couch to inspect his wounds more closely. "You need rest," Trish said to Lady without glancing up, "You've had a long day."

"No," she shook her head, "What can I do to help?"

"Nothing," Trish replied as she forced one of Vergil's eyes open to see a blown pupil, "He's had a concussion. Either he wakes up on his own or we make funeral plans." She didn't mean to sound so blunt, but that's how the situation was. Trish sighed and turned to face Lady, "Look, get some rest and we'll see what we can do in the morning. There still may be a way to get him back."

Lady didn't make a sound. She only spun on her heels and went upstairs. Trish brought her attention back to Vergil who was shivering madly. His teeth were chattering so violently, that she thought that he would break them. She pulled a blanket off of the back of the couch and spread it over his body. "Shake it off," she whispered to him as she stroked his hair, "Something so simple can't hold a devil back for so long." Trish left and returned with towels and a bucket. She remembered the last time Dante came home with a concussion. She remembered most of all that her tender care was rewarded with chunks, spewed into her trusses of gold. If anything, she learned from one twin what will happen to the other.

The sound of retching snapped her back to reality. Trish quickly rolled Vergil to his side and turned his head down towards the bucket just over the side of the couch. Nothing came, only a set of dry heaves. She was thankful that there was nothing to clean but also concerned that there wasn't even a morsel in his belly for him to reject. She rolled him back and he was deathly quiet again.

Upstairs, Lady had finished dressing herself after a calming, hot shower. She was sure that there was no more hot water left in the building. Dressed in only a pair of pink cotton panties and one of Dante's white tee shirts that went just past her knees; Lady climbed into bed. She laid her head on his pillows, taking in the faint scents of pizza and Axe. Lady curled into the fetal position, hugging the pillow close to her body. She once again let loose a torrent of tears and quiet sobs.

The front door opened and Trish tilted her head up to see Nero standing there. "Where's the old man," the teen growled.

"You need to leave," she hissed viciously, "You have no idea what's going on."

"If he didn't want me to have the sword, he could have just said so," Nero continued, ignoring the blonde's warning and adamant in giving the red clad hunter a piece of his mind.

"Nero go away! This is not the time!"

"I mean, what's the point entrusting me with it?" The two continued to argue back and forth, until Trish raised her voice to yell over Nero's, "Dante isn't here!"

"Then where the hell is he," Nero screamed, showing just how pissed he was, "Who the hell is that?!" He pointed at the couch noticing the figure lying there. Trish breathed out a sigh, but still a little breathless as her calm exterior began to unravel with the yelling earlier. Her voice was low now, hovering somewhere above a whisper, "That's Vergil, Dante's brother."

Nero approached the couch carefully to see that the man before him was identical to Dante in almost every way. "I thought Dante said he was dead... at least that's how he made it seem."

"We thought so too," Trish replied, "It was Dante who kept on believing."

"So, where is he," Nero asked with voice as low as Trish's weary tones.

"He went to find Vergil," she said taking her eyes away from Nero's. She paused for a while unsure how to word it for the teen. "He's gone, sweetie," she finally said.

"Wait... What?"

"He's not coming back," she approached the boy to hug him; "You should know that he fought hard to ensure that his brother stayed alive."

_Is that it? Nothing else, _Nero thought. He wasn't sure what to expect. The way he saw it, a son of Sparda had just disappeared and there was no hoopla, no one weeping his loss; none that he could see. "No tears, _Gloria_," he asked sardonically, his words dripping with disdain.

She could understand that this was one stage closer for him to gain acceptance. "Honey," she began, leading him to the trunk of her car, "Demons 'grieve' differently and I'm sure that I'd cry for him, but Dante would never allow it. I'm sure that if the time came his will would outline that his funeral would be a party at Love Planet. That's just the type of person he is. However, Lady is upstairs, feeling the brunt of the pain and I'm sure Vergil will too, once he wakes up." Trish opened the trunk and Nero saw the broken sword covered in blood. She reached in and grabbed Yamato to hand it off to Nero. "It's still yours if you want it," she offered. Nero slowly took his eyes off of Rebellion and returned eye contact to Trish with a melancholic expression.

"No," he said, "Yamato's true owner is back. He should have it. I only kept it warm for him." With that Nero turned to leave, but Trish stopped him with a hand to his shoulder, "When dealing with devils, you should know two things: We don't cry and none of us ever really die." Somehow, seeing Rebellion in pieces, Nero had trouble believing that. He looked over his shoulder and said, "I'll be back to check on Lady and Vergil later." The teen walked off, disappearing before the sun peeked over the horizon.

--

Some miles away, a breeze fluttered across a grassy field where three boys played. The trio laughed as they tossed an old football around.

"Throw it, Josh," one boy shouted from across the field.

"Trent, Mike," Josh yelled back, "go long!" The other two obeyed, running deep into the field keeping an eye on the ball that cut a spiraling path through the air.

"I got it," Trent shouted has he had gone farther out.

The ball tipped the boy's fingers as he fell. He didn't just fall; it felt like he had tripped over something hard. Nine-year-old Tent had expected to see a tree stump or something, but was quite surprised to see the color red peeking through the blades of tall grass. He stood slowly and walked over to the red. It was man, dressed in a bright red overcoat, platinum hair and an equally silver gun gripped tightly in his right hand. Trent couldn't get a good look at the man's face, because his head was turned away from him.

"C'mon," Mike yelled across the distance, "throw the ball back!"

"Guys," Trent shouted back, "C'mere... there's a man here!" He waved his friends over and they hustled to his position. The other two were just as mystified over the discovery as Trent originally was.

"I-i-is he dead," Josh questioned aloud.

"Let's turn him over," Mike suggested out of the blue. The other two agreed. They grabbed his left shoulder and pulled, effectively rolling him over to his back. Despite all of the movement, the gun never loosened from his grip.

At first they thought they had found an old man, but soon realized that it was a fairly young looking guy lying before them; at least younger than any of their fathers. The man looked flawless, like an angel, despite the specks and smears of blood and dirt on his face. "Do you think that he had a shoot out with the mob or something," Mike wondered aloud.

"And maybe he was an undercover cop," Josh added.

"He doesn't look like any cop I know," Trent said, bursting the imagination of the other two, "So, what do we do about this guy?" There was no answer to his question.

One of the boys picked up a stick and began poking at the body. "What are you doing," Trent narrowed his eyes at Mike.

"Poking him," Mike said without a care in the world.

"Why," Trent asked.

"Well, Josh wanted to know if he was dead... and I'm poking him... and he's still not moving."

"That could just mean that he's unconscious, you idiot. We have to call the Sheriff," Trent said snatching the stick from Mike, "Josh lemme borrow your cell phone." As promised, Trent contacted the authorities and within moments a Sheriff's car pulled up.

"Evenin', boys," the Sheriff greeted the children as he sauntered towards them.

"Hi, Sheriff Donovan," the boys replied in unison.

"Tossin' the ol' pig-skin around," Donovan questioned, trying to make conversation with the children, "Ya'll being good?"

"Yes sir," the boys answered.

The old Sheriff had girth with his height balancing it out, so that he could actually take full steps without waddling. His skin was rough and reddened by the weathering of the Texas sun. His gray hair was combed back and neatly hidden by his brown hat. As he walked past the boys, the keys jingled on his hips with every heavy, deliberate step he made. As he approached the body, the Sheriff bent to examine it. "None of ya'll touched or messed with him in any way," he questioned.

"Un uh," Josh vocalized.

"Well, we did turn him over," Trent spoke up.

Donovan leaned in and could have sworn that the man took a shallow breath. "3-14 please come in," he said, unclipping his police radio. He reached down to the man's neck and felt a carotid pulse. His calls were answered with garbled radio chatter. He replied, "We got a live one here, requesting emergency transport at Roberts Park just off of East Pleasant Run, over."

"Do any of ya'll know this man," Donovan asked the boys before his transmission was returned. They all shook their heads. He looked back at the man and thought, _what are you doing out here with a gun? You're just a kid yourself._ "Show me some life, kiddo," Donovan said tiling the man's head back to protect his airway.

"Boys," he said, "I want you to go home. I'll be around to talk to you all later." They were frozen in place since the Sheriff made the revelation that the man was still alive. "GO," he shouted, causing them to get into motion. The three scattered and disappeared just over the hill. At the same time, an Ambulance pulled up near his car and the Sheriff breathed a sigh of relief. The EMTs piled out to assist the law enforcement officer.

--

"And so the kid takes a breath," Donovan explained to his deputies over coffee, "and I nearly pissed myself!" He let out a rasping laugh. "Then what happened," a deputy asked.

"Well, the boys went home and the EMS came and took over."

"How's he doing? Did you ever figure out who he was?"

Donovan's expression became solemn, "He's alive, but last I heard he has yet to wake up... some sort of coma they said. As for who he is, your guess is as good as mine. Near as I can tell, he could have been a deep undercover agent or bounty hunter, got his cover blown and was probably left for dead in that park."

"What makes you say that?"

"Well, they way he looks. All of that leather, plus the IDs."

"IDs?"

"Yeah. He had one for just about every state and a different name to go with each. Daniel, from Maine, Dante from New York, Tony from Jersey, Rob from California; you name it he had it. The kid had more names than a damned baby book. Then he was also packing heat; a pair of super-customized handguns. They were heavy as all hell! I figure that the blowback alone would break a man's arm. The ballistics guy said that this kid definitely knew his guns. When I found him, he had such a tight grip on his gun, the EMTs had to inject something in his wrist to make him let go. It seemed like nothing was going to make him give it up."

"Sounds like a true Texan to me," another deputy laughed.

--

A few miles away, the man that was the talk of the town was waking up. He blinked his eyes open, attempting to filter out the harsh light. He gazed about the room with his eyes shifting from the incessant droning of the television to the clear plastic tubing sticking out of his arm to the chatter just beyond the door of his hospital room. He realized that there was something in his mouth and snaking down into his throat. He began gagging as he pulled on the tube in his mouth. He slid it out. It seemed to go on forever. He finally got to the end and almost threw up. In on swift motion, he pulled his IV from his arm and the electrodes on his chest. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stepped off towards the door with his arm still dripping blood from the IV hole.

--

"Ooh, girl, you're talking about that cutie in 1402. I don't care how they found him, that boy's got a rockin' body," an older African-American nurse said, "Now if I was twenty years younger and single, I would –"

"Sharon," a blonde cut her off, "he's a patient that deserves our respect."

"Besides, you never know," a brunette nurse said, "he may have a wife at home and the last thing you want, is to be labeled a home wrecker."

"Who are you kidding," Sharon retorted, "He's been here for almost a week and he has yet to be claimed by a next of kin. Maybe he has nobody."

"He's probably from out of state," the blonde stated, "and these type of things take time. I do wish that he would wake up soon so that we can learn more about him."

"Do you have a crush on him," the brunette teased.

"No," the blonde blushed, "I want to at least know his name. I think it's a shame that he's simply known as 'John Doe'."

Sharon looked up and said, "You want to know about your sleeping prince, huh?"

"Yeah," the blonde replied.

"Then you better catch him... looks like he's trying to make a break for it," Sharon pointed at the white-haired man, dressed in thin cotton pants and a shirt that draped on him like a loose robe, making his way past the nurses station using the wall as a guide. The blonde practically hopped over the semi-circular desk to get to the man. Just as she got to him, his legs gave out on him. A pair of delicate hands were all that kept him from completely falling to the floor.

"Good morning, handsome," the blonde said with her eyes meeting his, "What are you doing out of bed?"

The man didn't answer; he only stared at the beautiful woman before him. She helped him to his feet, walked him back to his room and said, "I know that this is a little confusing, waking up in a hospital, probably far away from home. You don't have to be scared." Confused maybe, but the man was far from fearful. He only lent her half an ear as he looked about his surroundings.

She spied the drying blood on his forearm. "We gotta get you cleaned up," she said softly. She made him sit in a chair in the room, thinking that he was probably tired of the bed. She then dug through a drawer and produced a moist wipe. She cleaned up the blood to see that there was no wound.

"All done," she said with a smile, "I guess you already figured that I'm a nurse here. My name is Hailey. What's your name? Where are you from?" The man continued his silence for a few moments more. To Hailey his gazed felt as though he was peering into her soul.

He looked away and then back again, answering in a soothing baritone voice, "I don't remember."

* * *

Okay... not nearly as long as the last. Upon re-reading this, I sort of realized that Dante is like Mike, Josh is Nero, and Vergil is Trent. Please, drop a line... did you like it? Hate it? Why? 'Cuz ,I want to know!


	4. Tabula Rasa

How 'bout them apples, Phant0m?! Thought I wouldn't get it done, huh? Lol... XD Anyways... here's chapter 4 where I tried to work in some humor. Let me know if it works.

* * *

Chapter 4: Tabula Rasa

Hailey raked a hand through her curly blonde locks. She looked at the man across from her, who was now standing at the window. He gazed out of the window only getting a good view of a lower rooftop and the parking lot below with the main road just beyond that. Hailey decided to ask the patient, "Do you know where you are?"

"A hospital," he chuckled with a grin creeping across his features. "I just don't know where." She instantly fell in love with his smile. Well, at least he wasn't delusional. He didn't seem as upset about the fact that he couldn't remember who he was, but the nurse keeping him company until a doctor arrived, had suspected that there was something freeing that came with amnesia. To have a fresh start... she was a little envious about it. He ran a hand through his disheveled snowy hair, which came with his week long sleep and sat on the gurney.

"What do you remember," Hailey asked. Sure she wanted to get to the bottom of the enigma before her. Every fiber of her being just wanted to get to know the man. Were her colleagues right? Had she really fallen in love? She tried to resist, because doing this wasn't right. First of all, he was a patient and she felt that she would be taking advantage of him. Second, his situation was complicated. After all, he couldn't remember who he was. He could be someone's son, brother, lover. The possibilities were endless. He must have _someone_. _Keep it professional_, she reminded herself.

"I remember falling in the field and waking up here," he said, keeping his answer short. Hailey heard his answers, but she really wasn't listening. She took in his ethereal, otherworldly eyes and hair. The way the thin, loose cotton hospital gown draped across his body as he sat on the bed, showcased small portions of his perfectly toned physique, leaving room for imagination. She could have drooled at that very moment as she eyed the gorgeous man. His attention turned to the low-volume television suspended from the ceiling.

"Texas," he finally said after a long silence, "I'm in Texas."

"Yeah, we're in DeSoto," she said with no sarcasm at all, "How'd you figure?"

"You have an accent," he replied, picking up on her speech patterns, "And that." He pointed at the TV where there was a newscast of the local weather. She marveled at how he was able to astutely observe his surroundings despite having just been in a coma moments ago.

"Where's DeSoto?"

"In Dallas County, a little ways south of the City." Hailey turned to see two doctors and the Sheriff standing just inside of the doorway. "I got to go," she excused herself from the room, "but I suppose these three are going to want to talk to you." With that, she returned to her post at the nurse's station.

"Good morning, hon," a female doctor said, approaching the man, "We just want to ask you a few questions and maybe take a small test."

"Why," he asked, peeling his attention from the television screen, "I feel fine."

"I'm sure you do," she replied, "but it is not everyday that someone wakes from a coma, without diminished cognitive abilities. We want to run some test to make sure that you are okay." He glanced from her to the wheelchair the male doctor brought in and back to her again. "Better to be safe than sorry," she said realizing that he was going to be a bit stubborn.

"Fine," he sighed, "but, I'm not going in that."

"Sorry," the male doctor chimed in, "hospital policy."

The female doctor went through a cabinet and produced a pair of disposable slippers. "Put these on," she said firmly, "we wouldn't want you to catch a chill."

The man reluctantly obeyed, putting on the slippers and taking a seat in the wheelchair. They left the room, with the male doctor wheeling him into a vacant lounge area. Once inside the room, the sheriff began setting up some audio equipment and let the stranger know that his interview was to be recorded. He cooperated.

"State your name for the record," Sheriff Donovan said.

"I don't remember," the man answered honestly.

"Where are you from, son?"

"I don't know," slightly agitated from having to repeat himself again.

The man spotted an unused pencil on the table. He picked it up and began twirling it between his fingers like a seasoned band drummer. The female doctor noted the muscle memory and the possibility of his old self – whatever that was, peeking through. "Did you used to play in a band?" He looked up at her through pale bangs.

"I don't know... it just seems natural."

"Let me level with you kid," the sheriff said, "we waited a week for you to regain consciousness and we are glad that you did. Now if it were me, I'd like to know what happened while I was out. I gotta warn you that some of the things you may hear, maybe a little upsetting. Do you still want to know?"

"Yes."

"About a week ago, a group of kids found you in an open field. At first, no one knew if you were dead or alive... and that was judging by the sheer amount of blood at the scene alone. Hell, I would have never thought that in a million that all of that came from one person. By the time you were brought to the Emergency Room, the doctors had found a few broken ribs and very deep cuts, and some other near fatal wounds. As they decided to bring you up to the ICU, they noticed that those injuries had _disappeared_. When you were found, we realized that you had not succumbed to an 'accident,' there was possibly foul play. We know this because you were found clutching a gun and it had been recently fired. We have reason to believe that you were in a firefight for your life. We just want to know with whom?"

The man didn't say anything.

"I have some items of yours that may jog your memory," Donovan said placing a small duffle bag on the table. From there, he pulled out a chrome handgun and another of obsidian. The man only listened to the sheriff as he traced his fingers over the engravings on the handgun._ Ebony & Ivory. For Tony Redgrave_ ... _By .45 Art Warks._ Suddenly, a name popped into his head, Nell. He didn't know why it came to mind. The name had been long forgotten. The only motherly figure he had from when began his young teenage life as a mercenary. He could vaguely picture he old woman. Her wrinkled face lighly illuminated by the fire that sourroud them, the blood trickling from her mouth.

Dovonvan noticed the man returning his deep thoughts and continued, "We saw this and considered it to be your name." He then brought out a stack of IDs. "Then we found these." He arranged them so the man and the two doctors may see; it was almost as if he was dealing out a deck of playing cards, "California, Florida, New York, New Jersey, Nevada, Ohio, Maryland... the list goes on and on. I suppose that I'll never know why you have so many aliases. But now that you don't remember a thing... I think that you are like a blank slate, if you will. I have no idea who your are, where you are from, what you've done, but I believe that everyone deserves a fresh start. You're in my town now and I want to welcome you." Donovan reached across the table and shook the hand of the white-haired starnger, saying "Welcome to DeSoto, Tony."

_Tony, _he thought to himself, _I can live with that._

--

Hundreds of miles of away, the other twin son of Sparda was recovering from his own injuries. Vergil stirred quietly from where he was lain. He opened his eyes slowly only to shut his eyes again to block out the migraines still pounding at his head like an errant jackhammer. "Trish," he croaked.

"Yeah," she answered, "I'm here." He heard the clack of her high-heel boots against the hardwood floor as she approached. "It's nice to see that you're alive."

"And Dante?" She gave no reply. Despite his eyes being closed he could tell that she was probably shaking her head gravely. He sucked in a breath and opened his azure eyes once again. "What about Lady?"

"She's understandably torn up about him being gone," Trish bluntly put it.

"Where is she? I want to talk to her."

"I wouldn't if I were you. She needs some time alone to cope."

Vergil shook his head in agreement and began to get up from the couch. "I'm going to take a walk."

"You're in no condition to go anywhere," Trish said pointing out the still prominent bruising.

"I'm okay." She looked at him, with an almost incredulous stare.

"What?"

"When have you last eaten?"

"I'm fine. I do not need you to play nurse maid or mommy for me. Save that for Dante when he gets back." The turnaround on the insult stunned Trish. The man really knew how to rally people when they needed it.

Vergil stalked off Dante's desk, shuffling through the drawers.

"What are you doing?"

"Looking to see if he left anything behind from when he went to find me."

"When does Dante ever come up with a plan? He broke into an occult shop, stole a crystal, and went about finding a 'spiritual nexus'. He did a little spell and threw you out of a closing portal," she summed up.

"Okaaay," Vergil blinked at her frankness, "So, how did he find it?"

"Lady did." Vergil tilted his head slightly in confusion.

"What? Didn't you know? She comes from a long lineage of priestesses. Maybe we should go back to the last nexus," she tapped her chin in thought.

"That won't work, they move around far too often to track and they never show up in the same place twice. But I know one thing; Dante isn't anything if not a survivor. I didn't feel a spirit passing on, so he's alive. The question is where?"

--

From Dante's upstairs bedroom, Lady lay in the bed they shared, gripping the pillow, as if for now, it was a descent substitute for him. Her eyes were red and puffy from the recent flow of tears. She had no more tears to expel only the short, choked back sobs. From her position she could hear the conversation Vergil and Trish were having downstairs. Strange. If she closed her eyes and listened hard enough, the brothers almost sounded the same.

She found it odd that the more she heard his voice, less angry she got. She would have thought that hearing Vergil's regal tones through the air vents would have made her blood boil, but it didn't. Why _did_ Dante have to sacrifice his life for Vergil's? The same man who promised to rein destruction on all of mankind. Why had he been so willing to bring him back? But, Lady wasn't mad. Had her love for Dante been so great that she would have done anything in his support? Maybe she had grown. Trusting in his judgment, no matter how crazy it seemed at the time. Could she trust him now? Well, he always did have good instincts.

--

"Tony," the man questioned.

"Yes," the female doctor chimed, "It suits you and it beats being called John Doe."

He glanced at the Sheriff with concern in his eyes, "How do you know I'm not someone else? That I didn't kill the _real _Tony Redgrave and rip it off of his corpse? How do any of you know that I'm not some horrible criminal that deserved to die in that field?"

"Did you," Donovan asked. Tony shook his head, 'no'. "Then, why should I be concerned? I trust you kid. And if you did, this is your chance to begin anew." The Sheriff stopped the record and stood from his chair. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a business card handing in to the silver haired man. "Now, you contact me if you need me." He then left, leaving Tony with the two doctors.

"Well, Tony," the male doctor began, "Judging from the answers you gave in the interview, you seem to be cognitively intact. We would like you to stay so that we may run more tests to make sure that you're physically okay."

"Near as we can see, Tony" the female continued, "You have a form of dissociative amnesia. You seem to remember some things before your discovery. You are also able to perform basic and complex thought functions and make rational decisions and presumptions. This proves this isn't a byproduct of regression. The main question we want answered is whether the damage that caused this is either neurological or psychological."

"What she means to say," the male doctor cut in, "is that knowing everything but your own past is extremely rare... stuff that only happens in the soaps. And with your help we'll figure out why. Now, we don't know long the condition lasts. It varies from person to person. It can either be temporary or permanent. But we have found that keeping familiar items around helps to draw out some memories."

"We've talked enough, Dr. Kline," the female doctor, "Mr. Redgrave, we need to get you upstairs for an MRI."

"Say wha—?"

"Just some tests to make sure you're well."

--

"There's _no _way I'm going in there," Tony said taking a look at the machine the doctors were going to stuff him in. The thing was huge and it took up almost half the space of the room, but the opening that they would put him was so tiny. In the way he would describe it, the machine was like a white plastic coffin.

"We thought you'd say that," the female doctor said injecting a mild sedative into Tony. After some resistance, a couple of orderlies had him on the table that slid into the machine.

"Please stay still, Mr. Redgrave. You're doing great," a voice over a speaker said. He wanted to jump out before claustrophobia had its chance to set in, but the sedatives wouldn't allow it and as a nurse advised, moving a single muscle would mess up the images and the test would have to be started over again. The more restarts, the longer he'd be there; all the more reason to cooperate. Tony let the hum of the machine lull him into dreaming. Lulling him to the moment he tumbled from that archway.

* * *

MRIs are the worst. For those who don't even even bother with Latin (like me), Tabula Rasa means blank slate.

Short... and not a whole lot of action here, but I did try to set mood. Did I do a half-way descent job?


	5. Out of a Rabbit Hole and into Another

Here it is Takuma! Now I want an update from you! Thank you to everyone who read, reviewed, added, dropped some ideas and pushed me into an update. Thanks!

* * *

Chapter 5: Out of a Rabbit Hole and into Another

_He blinked for one second; one lousy second. How could something so normal facilitate something so catastrophic? In one moment he was blocking off the masses with Rebellion and in the next it shattered and flew out of the closing portal. He watched as it clattered to fading room below. The adrenaline pumped through his body with such potency, that pain barely registered as a Blade sunk its claws into Dante's abdomen, nearly wrist-deep. More demons closed in, each taking swipes at the half-devil. Dante blocked a few more before releasing his Dreadnaught devil trigger. The initial wave of energy reduced the crowd in closer proximity into nothing more than ashes. He fought off a few more before a feeling of being utterly drained washed over him. _

_Dante managed to break away before more devils were able to bear down on him. He saw more coming in the distance. He bowed his head, realizing that he was screwed. In a last ditch effort, he activated his quick silver to slow down the advancing demons and began to whisper the spell. He understood that it may not work; it was only mean for two uses, a gateway in and another out. Afterwards, the magic evoked by the chants were null and void. Knowing that, he tried anyways. There was a flash of brilliant white light that decimated the entire demon horde. The last thing Dante did before the light overcame him was to bring up his arms to shield his sensitive eyes._

Tony awoke abruptly in a cold sweat. He shot up into a sitting position with eyes as wide as saucers. He found himself, once again in a hospital bed. A different one, but similar to the one where he had spent the last week. He swiftly laid back down again as his head began swimming from the sedatives. For a long time, he only laid there and listened to the rain pelt the windows. He lay there, contemplating that strange dream that he just had and where he had come from.

--

"What's this," Vergil questioned knowing full and well what resided inside the long velvet sleeve. He knew it from its weight. He knew it from the midnight-blue aura drawing around it. Yamato. "Where did you find it," he finally asked after a moment. He pulled it from the protective sleeve, exposing the sheathe and hilt. Vergil looked at his sword with the wonder and awe of a child who had just opened a long awaited gift on Christmas morning. Vergil being who he is, held back the bulk of his emotions. He had fully believed that he'd never lay eyes on Yamato again.

Trish smiled with some bemusement _and_ amusement at his expression. Rather than plainly answer his question she replied, "It's a long story." He unsheathed Yamato, amazed to see the blade whole again and shimmering as the day he first received it. Trish continued, "There was a boy from Fortuna who was able to fix it. I'm sure that remember him, huh? Nero?" At the mention of the name, a flood of images were brought to Vergil's mind. He could see them clearly; the Savior, Sanctius, Credo, Kyrie, and even Dante when he battled him from inside the body of the teenager.

"Fortuna," he uttered, "I had forgotten about that place."

"Liar," she responded, "Its not everyday that a half-devil can possess someone from beyond the grave. But I must say that it was pretty ballsy of you."

--

Kalina Ann was brought down and sliced into the poor Mephisto that _happened_ to be in her way. As the week passed, Lady be came deeply obsessed with demon hunting; consumed with indiscriminately ending the lives of any and all demons that crossed her path. So entrenched in her quest, she scarcely ever returned to Devil May Cry. She spent the past week avoiding anything remotely associated with Dante. She even went as far as to create elaborate exit strategies so that she would not have to see Vergil. In her latest bout of anger, she'd often picture herself stabbing Vergil to death because he was wearing _his_ face. As crazy as it all seemed, she felt it best just to stay away for a while.

RAT-A-TAT-TAT! Another Mephisto and a Faust bit the dust, courtesy of Lady's bayoneted Tec-9. More devils appeared and encircled the lone human woman. "Aww..." she taunted, readying Kalina Ann, "you're gonna hafta try a lot harder than that."

--

Hailey slipped into a powder blue jacket, just over her bubbly, pink hospital scrubs. She bent back to crack her spine and rolled her head back and forth to counteract the tension pain in her neck. That fifteen hour long shift really took its toll. To her it was all worth it, just to see _him_ again. She was finally admitting to herself that she had developed a crush on a man who had been asleep for nearly a week.

She rounded the corner to the green wing or the general ward. Tony had since been relocated out of the ICU because that kind of care was simply not needed anymore. Hailey stepped up to the central nurses' station of that ward. A red head was the first to catch Hailey's entrance.

The red head initiated contact, "I take it that you're here to see that cutie with the white hair in 1203."

"Yeah, Kelly" Hailey tried to seem as nonchalant as possible, "I just wanted to make sure that he's alright before I head home."

"That's _right_," Kelly returned, dragging out the certain syllables marking her understanding, "He _was_ originally from your ward." Hailey only nodded.

Kelly continued with a slight giggle, "Sure, Sugar, he's right down the hall." Hailey was sure that almost every nurse had known about her 'English Patient' situation. She was sure that she was being made fun of for it, but she didn't care.

Hailey made her way to room that she was told that he'd be in, only to find that it was empty. She made a quick sweep around making sure that he wasn't in the restroom or anywhere else. She raced back to the nurses' station and shouted breathlessly, "He's not there!"

Kelly knew exactly what to do in the situation. She picked up the receiver of a white phone and made a hospital wide announcement, "Paging Doctor Cody Adam to the green wing, Doctor Cody Adam to the green wing." What she in fact had done was to activate a hospital-wide code system. Cody Adam meant Code Adam for a missing patient. With in moments, five hospital security guards surrounded the round desk Kelly sat behind. Each of them were given a brief description of the missing patient and they fanned out for a hospital wide search. More took to the streets outside.

--

On the same floor on the white wing was the pediatric oncology ward. The whole ward was abuzz as it had never been before. The children were tickled pink by their new visitor. No, it was no candy striper nor a magician or clown to take their minds off of their illnesses. Tonight's entertainment came in the form of a white haired man who had simply asked to play next in a video game that the older children were playing in a lounge area. He hadn't meant to end up there, he had merely wandered in.

To look at the scene playing out now, on wouldn't think that these children each had aggressive forms of cancer and were undergoing some hardcore treatments. "OH," a few of the boys shouted as a female patient landed a spectacular shot against her white-haired foe.

"Lost the lead, gained the lead," the game announced. Tony never saw it coming. He had manipulated his armored character to search for her character through the maze that was a deserted warehouse. He had found her alright. As soon as he stepped outside into the dry landscape his character suffered a digitized sniper bullet to the head. The round ended and Tony passed up his controller. The girl to his left kept looking at him and looked away just before he turned his head into her general direction. She blushed and he smirked. He didn't call her on her clear-cut crush but only said, "Oh... Miss _Thang _overhere thinks she's so tough. Greg, defend my honor!" The girl did four snaps in a 'Z' formation and rolled her neck, garnering some laughs from the kids. Tony then got up from his seat and joked in a haughty voice, "I didn't like 'Halo' anyways."

Greg slid into the man's seat, replaced the game with 'Soul Caliber' and then said from under his blue knitted hat to the girl, "Jessica, you'd better prepare to get yourself ROCKED!" The other boys pumped up Greg while the girls cheered on Jessica.

"Well, Greg, I certainly hope that you've been practicing," Jessica shot back.

"Ooooh," the girls collectively instigated. The kids continued to play snapping some harmless trash-talk back and forth. Tony had noticed Hailey and a security guard standing outside the lounge. He stepped outside, somehow knowing that they were there looking for him. As soon as he did so, Hailey threw her arms around his neck. She didn't say anything, but he could tell that she was worried. He looked over to the pediatric nurses' station where a young African-American woman gave a sultry wave at him. "Yoohoo!" Three guess who tipped off the blonde nurse in his arms.

--

Months had passed and Tony lay quietly on a stone structure, thinking about those two weeks that he had spent in that DeSoto hospital to find out that he was completely normal, save for the amnesia. He still didn't remember anything, but he kept having those weird dreams about demons and closing portals. "You're awfully quiet," a voice from his right had said, "What's the matter kid?"

Tony turned his head and looked and the man at his right. Like him, he was wear a black jumpsuit and a matching tactical vest with 'SWAT' printed in white and centered across the back, slightly below the shoulder blades. Both wore something like black knitted ski-masks, minus their helmets.

The man had black hair with some white peppered in. He continued to look through the scope and then through a pair of binoculars, peering off their perch of a six-story building.

Tony was lying on his back gazing at the fluffy clouds that passed overhead as he put a tactical sniper rifle together. "It's nothing," he said, snapping another piece in, "Just thinkin' about Hailey. She wants to move back to DeSoto after the baby's born."

"What's DeSoto have that Dallas doesn't?"

"She's says its safer out there. Besides... she likes it. It's her hometown."

"I bet 'ol Donovan would be glad to have his daughter back in town," the middle aged man laughed heartily as he surveyed the street below. "How does it feel to play son-in-law to a sheriff?"

"I'm not knocking it," Tony responded as he rolled over, brought his rifle up and just over the ledge, "He's the one who got me this job." A short magazine clicked into place. Tony peer through the scope and into the bank at the ground level below. He watched the movements of one of the men holding the customers hostage. He watched as he grabbed a girl who appeared to be no older than fifteen and began waving his gun around like a maniac. _Coward!_

"No, kid," the man to his right remarked, "Your skills in combat got you your job."

Tony didn't make any additional comments on that statement, but asked, "Windspeed?"

"Three knots. Make your elevation a five."

"Roger that," Tony said as he slightly repositioned the rifle. There was a chirp in the pair's radio earpieces.

"Highflier two, this is Mobile one, come in," came a voice over the radio.

"Mobile one, this is Highflier two, over," Tony said into his radio.

"Highflier two, be advised, the Sergeant wants you on ground level on the double, over," The voice returned.

"Copy that," Tony answered, carefully laying down his rifle and picking up his helmet. "Killjoy," Tony muttered with some defeat in his voice.

The seasoned veteran only laughed, "See you later."

Just then, his replacement arrived on the rooftop. "Make some good hits today, Sims," Tony greeted his replacement, "Later George." The man only waved from his scope.

Once Tony made it to the barricade where the rest of the SWAT members met, the sergeant shouted sarcastically over his own briefing, "Redgrave, how kind of you to grace us with your presence."

"What? And miss the party?"

"Whatever," the Sergeant rolled his eyes, "get yer ass over here!" It was no secret that the sergeant believed that the white-haired rookie was too cocky for his own good, but he was more than handy with firearms and that's what _kept_ him on SWAT. Also, he could not ignore the fact that since the kid joined the squad, there hadn't been a single fatality in any hostage situation.

All negotiations failed and there was no reasoning with the perpetrators. The briefing broke and the members were placed in two ground teams and three rooftop teams. Team Alpha would be the first to head into the bank and Tony was on point. The first team clandestinely entered the bank, using a ventilation shaft from an adjourning building. Alpha team got into position and Bravo readied themselves to storm if Alpha failed. Once inside, Tony made the move to talk the five men inside, out of possibly horrible deaths.

"Jeez, this party sucks," Tony said. The men cocked their guns and aimed them at the arrogant man. Unfazed by the sudden attention Tony continued, "There's no food, no music, everyone's too scared to dance and the only babe you managed to snag is jail-bait."

"Is he crazy," an Alpha team member whispered to another, "He's going to get the hostages killed!"

Another member gripped his shoulder and whispered back, "Cool it! The kid knows what he's doing, let him work his magic."

"You got a death wish, buddy," one of the five robbers questioned the brazen SWAT member.

"I tell you what," Tony spoke up with a grin, "If you let the girl go, I won't have to kill you all, huh?"

"Fuck off, pig, and get us a getaway car," another man shouted as he unloaded some rounds at Tony, who easily dodged them all. He understood that these men were on edge and posed a greater threat to the civilians in the bank in this state. There was no more time stall, he had to act now. Tony rushed in, faster than any human eye could follow and punched out the man holding the girl. He then drew his sidearm as he pushed girl behind him.

CLICK! CLICK! One man fired at the Tony only to find that he was empty. Tony opened fire on him and two other men, hitting them in the arms and legs, making non-lethal, but incapacitating hits. The final man was holding a shot gun and he had grabbed another man who had been hiding behind a desk and scared out of his mind.

"Please! No!" the man screamed.

"Shaddup," the man with the shotgun yelled. Tony stepped away from the girl with his sights trained on the shotgun wielding man. He pushed the frightened man away and dashed at Tony at inhuman speed, standing about a foot away from him.

"Your death is imminent, Son of Sparda" the man hissed with a malevolence that shook Tony at his core.

"What," Tony balked. The man struck Tony in the abdomen with the shotgun's butt with enough force to cause him to stagger backwards. He then brought the barrel to the SWAT member's chest at incredible speed and pulled the trigger. It seemed to happen in slow motion. Tony blinked at the muzzle flash and dropped to the floor like a sack of potatoes. Before he closed his eyes, he saw his teammates subdue the man and extract the hostages.

Tony opened his eyes again to find the sergeant and a couple of paramedics just inside of his field of vision in the back of an ambulance. They were in the midst of removing his tactical gear. Tony tried to sit up or make some kind of movement, only to be pushed back down on the stretcher below him. "Stay down, Redgrave," the Sergeant commanded.

"Look, Sarge, I'm fine," Tony said.

"We'll be the judge of that," his superior said, "You know that you are _not_ to antagonize the suspects. You've could have died today, or even a civilian." The paramedics finished up, finding only some bruising across Tony's well-defined abs. They remedied it with a cold compress and told him to get checked out by a doctor if he starts feel sick. Tony steps out of the back of the ambulance with the Sergeant. "Look, Redgrave," the older man said, "I'm not trying to give you a hard time. Don't make your wife a widow and don't make your kid fatherless before he's born. Kid... You may have the devil's luck, but you aren't invincible." The man passed Tony his gear just before the white haired rookie could step into the back of a black SUV.

Some thirty feet away behind a police barricade, a tall middle aged man with brown hair stood next to a blonde ten year old girl. He pulled out a cell phone and began dialing.

"Hello," a thick Brooklyn accent came over the line.

"Enzo, its Morrison. You'll never believe who's here in Texas."

* * *

Notes:

Code Adam/Code Amber are codes that stores and hospitals for missing people... especially children. For a runaway patient... most hospitals use Code Elope. I used Adam because I thought that it sounded better. The Dr. Cody came from the combination of code Adam and Dr. Allcome... which is like an All Hands on Deck kind of deal, calling all doctors during a horrible accident without alarming everyone else.

The sergeant and the veteran call Dante/Tony "kid" simply because they are older than him. It's _not_ a jab at his age. Where I come from, people still get called kiddo even though they are full grown adults.

_Questions? Comments? Concerns? Or how about you just give me a review?_


	6. Homegrown Hero

_**Eric here, wishing everyone a Happy New Year! I'm keeping with my tradition... a brand-spankin' new update, resolutions that I'll never keep and a creepy-ass Twilight Zone Marathon from the '60s (You'd be surprised at the all of the scenarios that actually are happening now). I'd like to thank everyone who has read, reviewed or added this story to their alerts or favorites. You all make my day. Honestly! Sit back and enjoy as a weave my tale.**_

* * *

Chapter 6: Homegrown Hero

"Great job... Outstanding performance," were the words that greeted Tony as he arrived in the station's locker room. It was as if he was being congratulated for a stage performance rather than risking his life to save civilians. There were not very many of the SWAT members left there. He had deduced that they had already left for some beers. Soon, the few stragglers remaining were gone and it was only him and his partner left.

"See ya at the bar, tonight," George, the old tactical spotter questioned as he closed his locker.

"Yeah," Tony answered as he carefully eased out of his undershirt, revealing the wicked bruise across his abdomen. George caught sight of it and looked away. He could not bear to look at the physical reminder that his partner could have been so easily snuffed out earlier.

"You should be more careful," George scratched at his graying beard.

"I know," Tony's voice strained as the shirt uncomfortably brushed against the injury, sending a fresh wave of pain across his torso.

"I saw the whole thing; nearly scared me to death."

Tony remained silent.

"I'm sure that you already got the third degree from the Sarge— Just don't do it again, Kid. I've seen too many good men lose their lives in the line of duty. You got a wife and a baby on the way, please take care of yourself." George said nothing more. After a long pause between the two, he turned on his heels and left Tony alone in the locker room.

Tony understood it... he really did. But there was something inside of him that he could not quite place that made him act this way. Had he been so impetuous in his past life? ... Whatever that may be. Tony gingerly rid himself of the rest of his clothes. He crossed the room to the open gym-styled showers and turn on the shower head to which he staked a claim.

He let the steam envelope him and his mind wander. He questioned who he was. Tony realized that he could have died in that field in DeSoto, but somehow he did not. The same could have happened this afternoon. Tony often wondered since emerging from that coma, whether he was a normal human being.

He had not told anyone about the dreams that he had been having. No word to his beloved wife, to his trusted partner or even to the psychiatrist that had been hired to help him retrieve his lost memories. Tony saw no need for a 'shrink,' as he called them, but Hailey, Donovan, and the Sarge convinced him that it was for the best. For as far as he could remember, his reveries were filled with demons and other supernatural creatures, like something out of a fantasy novel. Lately, they had taken a turn for the more disturbing.

His dream from the previous night featured him fighting a duel for his life atop a stone tower. Despite the lightening illuminating the dark skies, Tony could not make out the face of his opponent. So far, the more recent reoccurring dreams ended with him painfully meeting the business end of his opponent's O-katana. That was another thing; how did he _know _that the slim eastern-styled sword was an O-katana, rather than a regular one? Tony did not know how or why he had the strange ability to pick out any weapon in a line-up... Or why he knew his way around a gun for that matter. He wondered a lot of things.

The hot water pelted his back, reddening it. He shifted under the steady stream of water. He allowed his head to lull downward. The water trickled down his neck, easing the tension there. From there, he glimpsed the bruise on his belly. He watched as it all but disappeared. Soon, there was barely an outline of its original position. Indeed, Tony was no ordinary human. Too many signs and seemingly coincidental things have occurred. Between this, not getting hurt when he should have, and other occurrences of his injuries being healed almost instantaneously quickly became known to Tony and somehow, to no one else.

Tony shut off the shower, dried off, and dressed.

Who or whatever he was, he could not let this shake him… not now. He had to keep up appearances, at least for Hailey's sake. He could not bear to have her worried over him.

Tony was clad in his civilian clothes, a fitted black shirt and blue jeans with a pair of black sneakers. He left the station and walked the six blocks to the pub where the rest of coworkers were convening. He entered and saw that the bar was nearly packed. He was sure that the whole department had showed up. He heard a voice shout from the crowd, "Hey, hey! Look who's here!"

He was greeted by more congratulatory remarks, cheers and pats on his back demonstrating their thankfulness that both he and the hostages were still one piece. One of his team members grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him through the celebrating mob, leading him to a table at the center of the room where George and Hailey were already seated.

He watched the two converse and laugh. She was as bubbly as the day he had met her. To him, she was positively glowing; her face so angelic and innocent. Tony could only hope that she had not seen the news or had been told of any of the intimate details of today's job. He made his way to the table. Hailey caught sight of him and pried herself from the chair with her round belly weighing her down. She promptly wrapped her arms around his waist, earning a slight wince from him.

"Tony, honey. What's wrong," she asked, catching the flash of pain in his eyes.

"Nothing," he reassured, "Just a little sore from work, is all."

"So everything was okay? You didn't do anything crazy," she quizzed. _Naw... she couldn't have known._ He knew that she had begged his Sergeant to put him on sniper detail in order to get him out of harm's way. She was always overprotective of him, as if he were made of glass.

_Does she know?_ "Umm... no?" Tony tested the waters with a lie. Tony glanced over to George, just over his wife's shoulder. His eyes emoted the need to keep what he saw a secret between the two of them. Hailey did not need to worry about any of her husband's many occupational hazards. George caught it and nodded in recognition of the unspoken promise. If he could, Tony would keep her blissful ignorance forever and George knew that he was accomplice to it. And why not? Being on SWAT took its toll on his marriage. Six years ago, it finally ended with a messy divorce and a daughter that would not even speak to him. He considered it his obligation to keep the happy couple... happy.

A bottle of beer had found its way to his hands and Tony relaxed his guard, joining into the celebration.

From across the street, in a small coffee, the tall, brown-haired man had a clear line of sight to the bar... and his white-haired target. The blonde girl sat at the bistro-styled table near the middle-aged man.

"Morrison," she whined, "when are we going to Schlitterbahn?" The man had promised that they were going to take a trip to the expansive water park, that is until he spotted the man earlier that day. Since then, Morrison had explicitly told her that neither one of them should interact with Dante. He could only imagine how the scene would play out.

"_Dante? Dante! It's me Patty."_

"_Who?"_

"_You know... Patty Lowell. You were hired once to act as my body guard. We used to hang out at your shop. I've grown a lot since then."_

"_Sorry, kid, you must be mistaking me for somebody else."_

"I'm sorry, Patty, but we'll have to make a rain check." He pulled out his camera phone and snapped pictures of the man in the bar. Before his vacation, he had gotten word that Dante had disappeared. Fancy finding him here.

"So much for retirement," Morrison muttered as he clicked send on his cell phone.

----

Enzo entered the dank establishment known as Devil May Cry at around eleven o'clock in the morning. He was given a less than welcome greeting as made his way into the main area. Lady sat at Dante's desk, downing what was left of Dante's liquor stash. She deeply took in the large gulps of bourbon, only releasing herself from the bottle to take a breath.

"Lady... Are you okay," Enzo asked as he cautiously approached the desk.

"Just peachy," she growled, pouring more alcohol into her waiting maw. The russet liquid burned its way down her throat. It was all she could do to numb the pain. Sure she had demon hunting to filter out her aggression, but the thrill had come and gone. No matter what she did, she could never escape the guilt of knowing that she had been the one who assisted in sending him to his death. To her, he may as well be dead. Vergil could not sense him, no matter how hard he concentrated. He never made mention of this to Lady, but she figured as much.

Lady had even gone as far as to rough up the shopkeeper for information about the crystal and if it had been curse. Alas, the shopkeeper was only the proprietor of the occult with no real knowledge of it. Either he was innocent or really good at playing the part; she did not know which was true. Lady was at her wits end. So, she turned to finding comfort at the bottom of a bottle.

Lady slammed the bottle onto the desk and heaved herself off of Dante's desk chair. "Time for work," she muttered, taking wobbly steps towards Kalina Ann, which sat in a corner near the front door. She lost her balance and would have met the floor if Enzo had not have caught her. He helped her to the couch that was closer to the steps.

"Come on, you gotta pull yourself together," the Brooklyn accent cut into her drunken haze, "Would you really want him to see you this way?"

"What do you care? You only became his friend because he made you money."

The stout man leveled with her, "That was true at first, but as the years went by, I grew to love him like a little brother."

Lady shook her head and uttered sadly, "It doesn't matter now. He's dead and either no one else cares or seems to see it yet."

"No... You're wrong. Dante's alive and I'll prove it."

He pulled out a tan envelope that was tucked under his arms and handed it to Lady.

"What's this," she questioned.

"Open it," Enzo replied, "I was going to wait for the others to get back, but I think that you should be the first to see it." The package lay her lap and she hesitated at it. "Go ahead," he urged.

She obeyed, retrieving a small flash drive and a small stack of photos. "Morrison tailed him for the past three days and sent the package," Enzo explained. She walked the package over to the desk and Enzo followed. She popped in the drive into a laptop and watched.

_It began like a normal family vacation at a theme park. "Say hello for the camera, Patty," Morrison could be heard in the background saying. The young blonde in the pink and white dress waved. The camera shuffled for a bit before blacking out to the next scene. _

"_Looks like he carries out some of the same day to day routines," Morrison whispered. He panned his camera over catching the man walking his usual six blocks to the pub. Morrison was careful enough to keep him centered in the frame. He then went for a tight shot, getting a close up of the man entering the bar. It was indeed Dante. The amateur video cut to a news clip. _

_A woman dressed in a rather conservative dress suit spoke, "Today, disaster had been adverted in a local bank. After a harrowing, three hour ordeal, twenty-five hostages were released from three armed would-be burglars. Channel Five news has learned that Dallas SWAT had been dispatched to the scene. Gina Garman reports live from the scene."_

"_Thank you Lisa," another conservatively dressed reporter said. Did they mass produce these journalists? She continued, "There have been no reports of any injuries to the hostages, but all three of the suspects have been sent to a local hospital in stable condition. None of their wounds were fatal. We spoke to some of the witnesses today. Fifteen-year-old Stacey Stewart told us what happened as she escaped from the clutches of the assailant."_

_The clip expertly cut to the witness sound bite, "I was so scared, but he came in and saved us."_

_Gina continued, "Who she referred to was a SWAT officer, Tony Redgrave." There was then a short scene shot of him entering the black SUV. "He was the first to rush in as an assailant brought a gun to Stewart's head. He risked life and limb getting in between her and the gunmen, before being shot himself. We have learned that he had since been treated and released with minor injuries. This has indeed been a trying and a miraculous day for the hostages and SWAT members alike. Back to you, Lisa."_

The videos were finished and Lady sifted through the photos. "Sounds, just like Dante; recklessly rushing in," she commented. Enzo could tell there was relief in her voice.

"Morrison and I talked. He confirmed some theories for me. As you can tell from the videos, Dante is going under the alias of Tony again. He serves as a Dallas police officer for the SWAT team... which doesn't surprise me. Morrison managed to get someone talk about Dante. He tells me that source says that Dante no longer remembers anything from his past. He has also gotten married within this past year. He also said that his wife is pregnant." Lady finally stopped at a picture where Dante was walking down a street, hand in hand with a very pregnant blonde woman. Her eyes welled up with tears.

It could have been the alcohol, but she was overcome with emotion. There was first and foremost, anger – anger over the fact that he had married someone else. Then there was relief and happiness that he was at least still alive. The anger melted away overridden by the happiness and by the logic that you cannot very well be upset at someone who obviously suffered from amnesia.

Enzo could only guess at what she was thinking, but he was sure that the news made her sober up quickly.

"When... do we leave," she finally uttered.

"As soon as Thursday," Enzo replied, "But first we've got to get ourselves together. I'll clue in Vergil and Trish, then I'll talk to Morrison."

Lady sat back in the chair like a deflated balloon. She closed her eyes and took in a deep breath. "Whenever and whatever you decide, I'm going." She said it with such finality that Enzo saw no point in arguing. If Enzo ever learned anything in his forty or so years on earth, it was to NEVER fight with someone so resolute... especially women. He gathered the fruits of Morrison's surveillance work.

"I'll be back in a few hours," he responded as he turned to leave. It was better to leave things unsaid. There was no reason to chastise her anymore for the mess that she had become. She needed to let the news sink in and that in itself may very well lead to her vindication.

----

Some hours later, Vergil and Trish found themselves at a coffee shop. Trish had gotten the call to meet Enzo there.

"Here he comes," Vergil was the first to spot the Italian Brooklynite as he entered the shop, "He hasn't changed a bit." Vergil remembered Enzo from the time he spent as 'Gilver' and the years before then. It remained to be said whether or not the ex-middleman remembered him. They watched as the man caught sight of them and shuffled towards their table in the back.

"You're late," Trish took the words from Vergil's mouth.

"Well, I'm sorry little lady," Enzo responded, "but I do have other clients that need information."

"How much," Trish questioned as she pressed herself onto the edge of the table, causing her cleavage to swell even bigger. Enzo had not really considered asking the demon hunters for a retainer fee for the information that he was about to give. But now Enzo had forgotten what he was going to say. His eyes widened slightly as he came face to face with Trish's... assets.

"Is this necessary," Vergil asked, thoroughly embarrassed by the scene Trish was causing. He had wished that the woman created the visage of his mother in mind, would be more respectful of her body; at least in his presence.

"Well if you got it, baby, then flaunt it. Some human women have no idea what kind of power they have at their disposal... ain't that right Enzo?"

"Huh," he dumbly responded.

"You said that the info we need about that demon's nest is free... Right?"

"Right," he replied, still entranced.

"Good," Trish said sitting back and covering herself up with her jacket. A grin crept across her face, satisfied that yet another man had been ensnared by her trap.

As contact was broken off from her ample bosoms, Enzo sat up remembering his previous train of thought, "I didn't come here for any demon hunting work. I came to give you some info passed on to me from Morrison."

"And what, pray tell, might that be," Vergil asked, turning back to his cup of tea, sure that the information would lead to wild goose chase. That was the way of this type of work; some information was reliable while others were a dud and Enzo's track record stood somewhere at sixty-forty.

"Morrison knows where to find Dante," Enzo simply replied.

Vergil could only stare back in response and Trish herself lack anything to quip. Vergil's ice-blue eyes were filled with a complicated mix of emotion. It seemed that joy, overtook confusion as he digested the news.

"How? Where," he finally asked the two question while his mind raced with millions more.

Enzo handed over the packaged that he showed Lady earlier as he answered Vergil's question, "Morrison spotted him in Texas... Dallas to be exact."

"Why don't you sound too enthused," Trish asked, noticing the Enzo's expression as he spoke. The middleman always spoke in a jovial tone, even when he doled out deadly jobs to the hunters. Maybe that's where Dante got it from. Now, he spoke differently, almost filled with melancholy. She prayed that the good news that he spouted overshadowed the bad one that he was surely about to give.

"It seems that he's... changed since his stay down there."

"And what is that supposed to mean," the blue-clad half-devil spoke up.

"What I mean is that you can't go rushing in and hop onto the next plane to Texas. You need a game plan. Think about it... something could very well be up. If he's been alive all this time, why hasn't he contacted you himself? Why not a single call home?" Both devil hunters nodded at Enzo valid points. "We have reason to believe that he has lost his memories. I doubt he'd ever slow down and give you a second glance if he passed you on the street. Hell, you'd probably only succeed in scaring him half to death," Enzo let out a wistful chuckled as he eyed Vergil at the last bit.

"What do you propose we do," Vergil nearly growled as he held back his emotions, "Sit back and do nothing?"

"No, that is not what I'm saying. I am saying that we take this on carefully and consider the possibility that he may have moved on with his life. Look, I already told Lady, but I don't want anybody's hopes dashed when we eventually meet Morrison down there." Enzo's words seared into their minds, fully illustrating that there was no room for optimism or pessimism at this point, only realism.

Enzo drew himself out of his chair and said, "Take a look at the pictures and let me know what you want to do. I'll be in touch." With that, the stocky Italian was gone from the coffee shop.

* * *

_**I hope the chapter doesn't come off as too OOCish. Who would have thought that Enzo would be so contemplative? But is he right for bursting their bubbles so early in the game? I see the moment of truth happening in one or two more chapters.**_


	7. Truth on Both Fronts

Sorry folks... its been a while (since New Year's, right?). I got two people to displace blame upon and they are KuroAlma and Shadow-of-a-wolf. I blame Kuro for getting me a DMC doujinshi (I have to figure out what it says... 'Cuz I can't read kanji) Grr! But thanks anyway dude, its still awesome! I also blame Shadow for bringing up very good fic ideas and causing me to get sidetracked. Oh! And the weather... because a week ago we had a bitchin' snowstorm and now its 80 degrees! WTF!

Anyhoo... on with the show!

* * *

Chapter 7: Truth on Both Fronts

Tony sprang up in his bed in a cold sweat. It took him a moment to realize that he was in his bed and Hailey was lying asleep to his left.

"That dream again," he quietly uttered. He looked over at his wife who was still caught up in a very contented dream, evidenced by the smile that stretched across her lips. He got up and walked downstairs to the kitchen. In the last few months, he found that walking helped him come to grips with the dreams. It always ended with him being run through with the O-katana. The assailant's face had been unclear, but he still had that firm belief that he knew his attacker. The guy appeared to be in his late teens, maybe early twenties. He wore a royal blue, Asian styled trench coat with yellow trim. It was possible that he dealt with some shady characters before he awoke in DeSoto and it was still possible that the man in his dreams was the one that nearly killed him.

And what did he mean that might controls everything? When he spoke about father, did he refer to his biological father or a code name for some gang leader? It may have been some memories reemerging, but in the end it left Tony with more questions than answers.

Tony went upstairs and changed into some work out sweats. He rummaged though the refrigerator before emerging with a bottle of water. He grabbed his keys before heading out for a pre-dawn run. Hailey blinked her eyes open and groped the area where Tony would have been sleeping.

"Tony," she called quietly. His side of the bed no longer held its warmth, telling her that he had gotten up a while ago. She glanced at the alarm clock on the night table that displayed the current time of three forty-eight in the morning. She rolled back over and closed her eyes.

Tony ran the half mile to White Rock Lake Park with the full intention of running the ten miles of trails that snaked around the lake. If he kept a steady pace, which was more like a brisk jog for him, he could have the whole thing done in about ten minutes. Still, he was in no hurry. He hoped that the run would clear his head.

He ran the trails, eyeing the shimmering moonlight on the water. Tony sprinted the first nine miles and walked the final. Not that he was tired, which he thought it odd, since he never seemed to get worn-out; but he wanted to take his time, trying to review his dreams. Lately, he had been constantly trying to psychoanalyze himself, wondering why he had certain habits; why he loved the color red and why he didn't seem to tire of pizza, beer and ice cream, more specifically strawberry ice cream. He often wondered how he was able to aim accurately as he fired ambidextrously. Each question seemed push farther into the past he couldn't remember. Who was he? What is he? And who is this 'son of Sparda' the man at the bank spoke about?

Tony stopped along the boathouse, lost in thought, kicking stray rocks into the water. He titled his head upward to the heavens, sensing that it would soon rain. A thunder clap boomed above him and little water droplets pattered onto the pavement below him. He didn't mind getting wet; there was something about the rain that comforted him... Something so familiar about it. He aimlessly skipped more rocks into the lake until the trail he walked curved back into his neighborhood.

Some fifteen minutes later, the sun crept over the horizon, telling Tony that he had spent about three hours at the lake. He shuffled back to his home, downed the last bits of water in his bottle. He quietly opened the front door, just in time to hear the phone ring.

"Hello," he tiredly answered it.

First came the heavy, short breaths and the curt, 'ah-uh's,' as if the person on the other end had parted their lips to speak, but clamped their mouth shut at the last second.

"Hello," he repeated.

_CLICK _and the line went dead. Tony let out a quiet sigh and shook his head. He followed suit and hung up the phone. For the better part of a week, it had been a sad routine. At first, he thought that the word-less phone calls were someone realizing that they had dialed the wrong number. But they had been happening much too frequently to be mere mistakes.

-----

Lady hung up the phone and glanced at the clock on Dante's desk. The face plainly showed that time was marching closely to five o'clock in the morning. She inhaled deeply and questioned herself mentally, _what am I doing?_ She knew that there was the time difference between them, but it didn't stop her from looking up his phone number online and calling him. She'd call once in the morning and twice in the evening. Sometimes, his girl would pick up the phone. It had finally come down to her agonizing to be with him; it was anything and everything she could do at the moment just to hear his voice again.

Well, there was Vergil, but he could never hold a candle to the cockiness that Dante's voice held.

To her it was almost laughable. A year and a half ago, she wouldn't have thought that she could fall in love... let alone with Dante. Back then, she would have scolded herself for being so emotionally dependent on any man; human or otherwise. It was almost as if a younger version of herself had stepped out of her body to scream out. _What is wrong with you, _she screamed with the intensity of a drill sergeant, _Get your head in the game! What happened to you fighting no matter what?_

She was a mess and by God, she knew it. So far wrought with abandonment issues, she sought any and all means to drown her sorrows. First there was the demon hunting and then there was Dante. Without the two her life was incomplete.

If she'd ever been to psychologists, they would tell her about the many complexes from which she suffered. They'd tell her about the stages of grief and implore her to deal with them. And Lady had seen each of them; she felt like she had been to Hell and back. If she had any say in the matter, she'd tell them that she will come through like a champ, despite not getting any closer. She had even become a stalker from half a world away. How did she get here?

Nevertheless, this morning's objective was complete. She had heard his voice. Something that she had longed for, what she waited to do for over a year. Yes, she felt bad about the circumstance of how she got her way. He sounded tired over the phone. Perhaps he had been asleep. Or maybe he was growing frustrated with her constant calls without saying a word. She simply couldn't wait until Enzo planned the trip to Texas. Neither Trish nor Vergil knew about her games of 'ring-ring-ditch'. Nero had caught her once, but kept his word about saying nothing.

Even Nero was taking it hard. Not nearly at the magnitude as Lady, but he was running through the motions too. He had soft spot for the arrogant hunter. Dante had in a way, been his only family since Credo and Kyrie. He loved her and she knew he did. She was the one who suggested that he pursue Dante for the answers to his questions. Dante knew something about Nero's past that he wasn't willing to let on it. After all he looked like the guy and he _needed_ to know why.

His pursuit of the answer all but went up in smoke when Dante made his disappearing act. Trish had assured him that it didn't exactly mean that the man was dead, but all the same... Sure, he'd ask Vergil, but keeping his distance from the guy who managed to possess him seemed to be the more prudent decision. He just didn't seem like the type to sit and talk. He was sure if the guy ever had kids and if they asked them about sex, he'd toss them a book so that they could read up on it.

So what? Vergil was unapproachable and frankly scared the shit out of Nero. Maybe it was the semi-permanent scowl that he always wore. Trish had nagged them into to spending time with each other. And they did. Unfortunately, it hadn't worked out as well as she hoped. Vergil sat in silence, not particularly eager to bring up his exploits in the Underworld and other parts of his lurid past concerning Dante. On the other hand, Nero proved to be much too timid strike up a conversation with the blue clad twin. So much attitude and nothing to back it up.

He could have questioned Trish, but he had issues with trusting her. He felt a little betrayed when he found that 'Gloria' was merely Trish in disguise. Sure, she had her reasons for doing so, but it still didn't sit right with him.

Then there was Lady. Before all of this, she seemed like a sensible woman. More importantly she was a human and Nero hadn't had much luck in fully trusting in demons, despite finding out that he was one himself. There were the ones, like Dante, who turned out to be decent in the end; but Nero couldn't shake the anxiety and the ultimate treachery of the only family that he had known... the Order. How could have been so blind and gullible? They turned out to be nothing but a bunch of devils disguised as humans. And Credo of all people...

He had thought that he made his peace with it, but that old unspoken promise he made to himself about not trusting demons came back to haunt him. He even began to deny his own heritage.

But, back to Lady. He would have asked her, but it just seemed inappropriate to bring up the issue of her long bygone lover. If he did, would she cry... sink deeper into depression? He wrestled with the questions and decided to put them aside and stay away from the shop, unless needed of course. Strange how a loose cannon of a devil hunter was the glue that held this dysfunctional surrogate family together.

For now, he'd make due without knowing about his origins. He'd push aside the questions of whether or not he was related to the twins. He'd do what he could to keep the peace.

------

Vergil sat on the old moth-eaten coach in reception area of Devil May Cry polishing Yamato. He had indeed felt sorrow for his missing brother, but he dared not to show it. His demon pride wouldn't allow it. Instead of letting his emotions over take him, Vergil decided that he would keep his mind busy and at least be strong for everyone else.

There was the daily ritual of meticulously polishing his sword, whether it saw any action or not. His lone sparring sessions in the basement and even taking on any extra jobs he could. He slipped a cloth through his fingers and over his blade.

"Trish," he calmly spoke as he spied the reflection of the blonde demoness behind him, "How long have you been there?"

"Not long. When are you going to tell Nero... _Are_ you going to tell him?"

"So it was you, using the boy to cajole an answer out of me. Are you interested in his origins as well?"

"I can't say that I am and I can't say that I am not. What I can say that he needs to know. There no use in withholding such information from him."

Vergil poured more clove oil onto the cloth and caressed it across Yamato.

"Hmm," he hummed a simple answer, "I doubt that he'd appreciate the answer... no... It is more likely he would not accept it."

"Why? He's a big boy and I'm sure that he's more than able to handle it. He turned out okay after Dante dropped the bomb in Fortuna, telling him that he was a demon."

"No. This runs far deeper than that, which I am sure that you, yourself will scarcely understand."

"Is this a crack on my inability to understand humans at times?"

Vergil was silent for a moment. He performed an Iaido, fluidly twirling his sword before sheathing it. He then laid it across his lap, talking the time deduce how he would word his statement for Trish. "I in no way mean to insult your intelligence. I could tell the boy and the truth could drive him mad. Imagine if you will, that you have learned that Mundus did not create you, but rather some other entity... or that you were not made for the purposes that you thought you were. In that sense, you would have found out that your whole existence is a lie. I could not do it to him, because I know that sometimes ignorance is bliss."

For every time he spouted that knowledge was power, Vergil also knew when people were better off not knowing.

"It's still better to learn it from the horse's mouth rather than to find out some other, 'less than favorable' way," Trish sagely commented, air quotes and all.

Vergil let out a small sigh and said, "Perhaps I could try and tell you what I would say, then I'll gauge your reaction."

"Okay, shoot."

"Nero was one of the experiments of the Order."

Trish's eyes went wide for a moment, "Wait— What?"

There was another sigh and he explained, "He was born to human parents who died while he was an infant. He was also born with the silver hair that much of the Sparda bloodline has. Since his birth and his placement in an orphanage, the Order kept an eye on him, believing that he was blood relative of Father's. It seemed that they never suspected that the boy had a genetic mutation of melanin pigments. Credo and Kyrie's family took him in and the Order took the opportunity to recreate _their_ savior with the young orphan. They mixed and matched the abilities that they believed Sparda possessed. That is until I faced a Knight that had entered the Demon's World to collect more specimens. He and I fought until he managed to spill some of my blood, which he then gathered and most likely used for their trials."

Trish was utterly speechless for a moment. She was then able to rationalize, "That would explain why he is able to wield Yamato— he has your blood!"

------

Tony stepped into his steaming shower. He rested his forearm on the shower tiles and then his head on top. He allowed the hot water to relax him, lull him close to sleep. Tony loved showers. To him, they produced a sense of euphoria close to sex. Once he got started with a good one, there was no stopping him. Showers were his chance to get away, to wash away the world.

He felt slender hands snake their way around his waist and up his abdomen before stopping at his chest. Then he felt her bare body press against his back.

He brought a massive hand up to meet hers. "Did I wake you," he uttered softly.

"No," Hailey replied, matching his volume, "Where did you go?"

"I went for a walk to clear my head," he turned to face her. His unbelievably azure eyes met her baby blues just before a short kiss.

"Come back to bed, baby" she said before stepping back out of the shower.

Tony stayed for about five more minutes before drying off and obliging her request. Dressed in only underwear, Tony let out a sensual growl crawled into bed like a tiger on the prowl.

He tickled her for a moment and laid down a trail of kisses starting at her belly and ending up at her mouth. His eyes met with the alarm clock on the night table. He dropped his head to the bed and let out a groan of disappointment.

"What's the matter," she questioned.

His eyes met hers again and he answered, "So sorry, babe, I gotta head out to the shooting range to meet George. Hold that thought for me, okay?" He planted another kiss on her lips and dressed for work. "I'll see you around three... Don't you have a doctor's appointment today? I could probably get off early to take you."

"No... Its okay," she said, "I have to meet with the girls to talk about the baby shower also."

"Hey... isn't it the job between your friends and me to plan the shower so that you can have a stress free day?" Tony's eyes narrowed slightly.

"I don't mind it and I think it would be fun."

"Okay," he put up his placating hands, "I'm not one to argue... So are you going to tell me the sex of the baby after the appointment?"

"Not if it's going to be a surprise," she replied slyly as she wagged her finger.

"But—"

"Bye Tony. Be safe," she crooned as she playfully pushed him out of the bedroom door.

------

The room was filled the loud bangs of live rounds, lulling only when the shooters decided to reload. Tony squeezed off a few shots which ended up mere centimeters away from the bullseye.

"What's up Tony," George had noticed that his aim was a little off, "Something on your mind?" George pressed a button on the side of their stall to recall the paper target.

"Aw, it's nothing," Tony reloaded with flair, spinning a new magazine before tossing it into the pistol George provided. The older officer was secretly envious of the fairly new hotshot.

George clipped a new target on and sent it down the line.

Tony took aim and said before the starting bell rang, "I just feel like I forgot where I left something and I'm starting to remember bits and pieces of where I left it. I feel like I'm missing the punch line and everyone's in on it." The commencment bell screeched, making sure to be heard over all manner of ear plugs. He left no time for George to respond. Tony immediately unleashed a hail of bullets at the chest of the figure with impeccable accuracy.

Jealous or not, George was sure not to get on the white-haired rookie's bad side.

----

The doctor passed an imaging wand producing a sonogram image of Hailey's unborn baby. She wore a white blouse and simple black pencil skirt with some very alluring heels. She wore her curly brunette hair pulled back into a pony tail. Her hazel eyes studied the screen, scrutinizing every detail. She didn't become one of state's best obstetrician/gynecologists by sitting on her duff.

"Good, good. It looks like you are taking great care of yourself and the baby," the OB/GYN commented as she recorded her findings.

"I try," Hailey chuckled.

"Taking your prenatal vitamins?"

Hailey nodded in response.

The doctor set aside her pen and charts. "Now, Hailey... This off the record... girl talk. How are things with your husband?"

"They're great. He's so devoted despite him having to work long hours. He's been a sweetheart."

"How's he been coping with the amnesia? Any new memories?"

"He's doing better... but he doesn't know that _I_ know about his nightmares. Sometimes he wakes up sweating, almost close to screaming. I ask him what they were about and he just smiles and says 'nothing'. Some nights I swear he doesn't sleep at all. Sometimes he's just so emotionally unavailable."

"Is he getting any help?"

"Yes, but he's so tightlipped to the psychiatrist." The doctor nodded and pushed her questioning into a new direction.

"Do you ever considered telling him the truth?"

Hailey shook her head, "It's like a dream I never want to end. I'm so lucky to have him and I won't lose him over a singular moment of weakness."

"You can't do this to him... Hails, this is me Gracie, your best friend from school talking. We've been keeping each other's secrets since grade school. Hell, I shouldn't have even kept this secret. He's a great guy and I don't want to see anyone hurt."

"What? And violate your patient confidentiality agreement? You _are_ bound by law." The blonde raised an incredulous eyebrow.

"Still, at some point, you're going to have to tell him that you are _not_ carrying his child."

* * *

Uh oh... Looks like Hailey's been whoring around and Nero's gonna flip if Vergil ever tells him the truth. Stay tuned.

By the way: Drop me a line, tell me how you feel about the recent turn of events.


	8. Enter Superhero Complex Part I

Chapter 8: Enter Superhero Complex Part I

Cracks of thunder echoed through the indoor range as sulfur's heavy odor settled upon it. The other practicing shooters had long ago packed up and left, leaving George and Tony to their devices. Tony expelled a magazine, with his hands and arms locked in firing position. He stood still, wildly panting. His glazed and unblinking azure eyes stared blankly at the pulverized paper target.

A witty quip came to the old officer's mind as a means to break the tension, but he pushed it aside, saying instead, "Should we call it a day?"

Tony remained as unmoving as a statue.

"Kid?" George once again questioned. He brought a hand up and lowered Tony's. The act snapped Tony back to reality. He turned his head and locked eyes with George for a moment.

"What's going on in that head of yours, kiddo?"

"Huh?"

"What were you thinking? You look like you've just seen a ghost."

What had he been doing? It was almost as if he had been running on autopilot, going through the motions. For one, accurately shooting at a target would require the full concentration of a normal human. All things considering, he did not fall into the same category. Even going back to sniper school, he noticed something rather odd. Evaluate and then reevaluate, hold your breath and then squeeze the trigger. Those were the lessons drilled into the heads of a sniper from day one. Back then, he found that when his instincts took hold, those lessons no longer seemed to apply to him. He did not need to relax his breathing, nor use any other external modes to calm himself. He could put the bullet just where he needed it to be, without so much as a focused thought.

The more he thought about it, the more Tony realized that his crack shooting skills were much like that movie, _Wanted_. Although, he was not too sure about curving a bullet, he was nonetheless still confident enough his skills. Then again curving a bullet may not be outside the realm of possibility with him being _what_ he is.

Confidence and skill tend to go very far, but what brought him here? What caused him to tremble so much? His hands were still locked in a white knuckled grasp. For a moment, the paper target seemed to morph into a snarling, grotesque monster. It brought a lithe appendage up to point a clawed finger at Tony and began to speak. It snapped its ferocious jaws and gnashed its sharpened teeth as it growled out its threat, "Die, seed of Sparda!"

It drew itself up and lunged at Tony. It whipped its large, thick, scaly hide of a tail into the white-haired rookie's direction. He didn't know why, but in that moment fear and rage coursed through his body. The creature did truly frighten him, but soon his anger overtook his trepidation. Adrenaline surged into his body as his synapses fired wildly into perfect synchronization garnering seamless movements. Without further hesitation, he brought the hand up that still held onto the pistol and aimed it at the lizard-like creature. When he pulled the trigger, his eyes widened in horror at the hollow sound the gun produced. That click, that simple sound that would send any shooter reeling back in terror. Only a simple sound denoting that the chamber was empty, noting that one was screwed.

Empty? How could it be? He had been so careful. It came with the territory of being a cop. Now, one little mistake would cost him his life. He pressed his eyes shut and quietly accepted his fate, fully expecting to be run through by its monstrous claws. A perverse thought crossed his mind in that moment. Would this be slow and painful or would he go quickly? Would it torture him with shallow cuts before finishing him off or will its appendages reach far enough to snap his spinal cord in two? That sweet release of instantaneous death. He wondered… and waited for its talons to invade his flesh and organs.

He waited for the attack that never came. Tony plucked open an eye and then the other. The monster that he was sure was there a moment ago was gone, replaced by a bullet riddled paper target.

Had it been a daydream? It was so vivid. He was sure that he could smell it and even feel the saliva that had flung from its mouth as it spoke. Could it be a memory? He wanted to farther probe the notion. After all, he felt as if he had experienced it before.

"Hey, kiddo, you okay? Say somethin'," George's voiced reached Tony's ears with sudden crystal clarity.

Tony spun the pistol by its trigger guard and placed down on the countertop next to the spent clip from earlier. He rubbed the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger.

"You okay," George repeated in the same concerned tone.

"Yeah, it's nothing," Tony lied with an almost feeble grin, "Just a headache. I'll be fine." George walked over to the white haired man and looked him directly in the eyes.

"Look, Tony, I don't know what's goin' on, but you have been acting strange for a while now. First, you recklessly run into an armed hostage situation and now these… _spells_. It's like you're spacin' out on me. What's goin' on, huh? I can 't help out if I don't know."

Tony gave a grin that did not seem to match the sadness in his eyes. "The truth is," he replied, "I don't know myself." Tony would liken it to walking through a dark house with a busted flashlight that randomly flickers on and off. Some of the things he saw could have been interpreted as either real or ghosts, but the light is never on long enough to tell the difference.

"I'm gonna hit the showers and I'll see you later on for some hand-to-hand."

"Why don't we go ahead and skip it," George vocalized as he fingered the white envelope in his back pocket, "Why don't you meet me a Frankie's?"

"Fine... I could use a couple of beers." Tony turned and gathered up his gym bag, "See ya later."

George's mind flashed to a conversation that he and Hailey had a few days ago. _"He calls out to someone in his sleep. Before, he was apologizing to someone named Vergil and recently he has been whispering something about 'Lady'. I think it's another name. Oh God. I don't know, George, I worry about him sometimes. Please, just keep an eye out on him for me."_

"Yeah, later, kid." And George was left alone.

----

"Hails, how did you get here? How'd you end up with the perfect guy and still end up with—," Gracie trailed off as she motioned at Hailey's belly.

"I ask myself that sometimes," her eyes softened with tears that she refused to let run, "I never did consider his feelings. It feels like I practically forced him into a relationship. Have I hindered him? I wonder sometimes, if I hadn't been treating his case, would he have regained his memory and be with his family… whoever they may be?"

"That's difficult to answer, Hails… You know that. I believe that you were treading on dangerous ground from the moment you said 'I do'. Were you trying to fast track this before you developed a baby bump? What's going on in that head of yours?"

"I don't know. I honestly don't know. Can you call it envy?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you weren't there at the time… but back in DeSoto, I was in a train wreck of a relationship. I know that whatever happened between us back then doesn't excuse what I did to Tony. When I first met him, I didn't set out to fall for him. It just happened. I felt this subconscious pull from the moment he was brought to the ICU. I know that it's awful and selfish to think that way of a patient at death's door, but he looked like he had a story to tell. I felt compelled to stand by him and listen. I mean… I come from a small town. It's not every day you hear of a handsome young man clutching onto a gun for dear life. When I laid eyes on him, I wanted to ask him what happened. No. That's not true." Hailey shook her head allowing some her blonde curls spring back forth into her face.

"You wanted something else from him."

"Yes," her shamed gaze fell to the floor, "He was going to be my fresh start. He was my knight. He was going to spirit me away from that creep and whisk me to some far off land. Heh. So much for my fairy tale."

"Have you ever seen _The English Patient_?"

Hailey nodded her head.

"This is kind of like it. You fell in love with your patient, but that's where the parallels end. You are more like Almasy… or more really Caravaggio. Now, being with Tony is like your morphine. You're addicted to him and like Hana; he's oblivious to your intentions. You lie, cheat, and steal to get what you want. You do what you want while disregarding the suffering you're causing. It may not be overt now, but it will surface with catastrophic consequences. Do you see what I'm saying?"

Hailey only stared as her friend so very astute laid all of her years of bullshit before her. She could not believe that her friend had called her out. However, Hailey did not argue or try to contradict the metaphors and similes Gracie gave. She had asked for the woman's honest opinions and boy was she getting it.

Gracie continued, "Look. You are romanticizing his pain. You have no idea what he went through before you two met. For all you know, his best friend could have left him to die in that field. Have you ever thought that the moment he does remember, he won't find any happy memories? God, Hailey, you are still like you were in High School. You are addicted to drama. How long are you going to perpetuate this? This isn't some damned dime store novel. You just can't fuck with someone's life. I think that you should tell him. Better that it comes from you than anyone else."

For the second time during her visit with Gracie, the blonde cast her eyes away. She shut them, squeezing her tears back into their ducts.

"I know… It's only right."

----

"Exactly how much do you know," Tony questioned with sapphire eyes blazing with a quiet anger.

George thought it best not to mention any specifics. "Enough… enough for me to say as a partner and a friend that you need to take some time off. I reckon that will help you recharge your batteries."

"Really, I'm fine."

"No, you're not. You should go home and deal with this, before it really affects your work. Take some time off to clear your head. Take care of that pretty wife of yours and prepare for the baby. We'll hold down he fort while you're gone." George pulled a white envelope from his back pocket and handed it to Tony.

"What's this?"

"The Chief agrees with Hailey and me. In there you'll find the details for a two weeks paid vacation. Now don't come back any earlier... we want you well-rested."

Tony placed it on the table next to his half finished beer. He gave it another nonchalant glance before taking another swig of his beverage.

"It's not a request. It's an order from up high."

Tony swirled the remnants of bitter beverage. He brought his eyes away from George's as he said, "So, what did she tell you? Did Hailey say that I go to a shrink because I can't remember what happened past twelve months ago?"

"I'm sorry. I had no id—"

"Don't play dumb with me. You and I both know you have spoken to Donovan in the past; long before I was assigned to you. George, you've researched every potential partner for the past ten years. I mean, it's only natural, right? They've either died on you or sent to desk duty after being badly injured. I have no doubts that Donovan told you everything there is to know about me. That old man can't hold water."

George looked absolutely dumbstruck. _How did he know?_

Tony brought his eyes up to meet his partner's once again, "Were you told that weird shit happens to me that I can't explain?"

"What do you mean?"

Tony first looked around the bar to see that he and George were only ones there… well, besides the bartender sweeping the sidewalk outside. The rush had not come in yet. He then looked about the table finding a set of rolled silverware. He unraveled the paper casing exposing a fork and steak knife. He gripped the knife in his right hand and pressed it to his left, causing George's eyes to widen in alarm.

"Hey! Hey! What do you think you're doing?!" George attempted to swat the sharp object out of the younger man's grasp only to be thwarted by those steely blue eyes. He didn't know what it was about those mesmerizing orbs that made him stop in his tracks.

Tony continued on, cutting a straight crimson line down his palm. George sat silently with his mouth gaping dumbly like a fish out of water. He watched as the deep cut that Tony gave himself instantly sealed itself, leaving behind some minor blood droplets on his virgin skin.

The older man did the only thing his brain could process at the moment. He picked up his bottle of beer, glaring at the label.

"Don't sweat it. You're not nearly drunk enough to hallucinate and no one slipped you a mickey."

"Okaaaay," George began slowly before beginning some odd laughs that sounded uncomfortable, "so then where are the smoke and mirrors?"

"That was no parlor trick… What you saw was real."

"Do remember about four months ago, just after I first started, we went to storm a situation in collaboration with Houston?"

George slowly nodded.

"Some crazy guy shot at us with armor piercing rounds and I got hit. You kept telling the chief on the scene that I was badly hurt and needed an ambulance when I kept trying to reassure you otherwise."

"Yeah. You were still rarin' to go. I had to literally drag you out. I was about ready to knock your block off, so that the EMTs could check you out. We stripped the vest and found some blood, but no bullet and no wounds. Chief figured that it didn't fully penetrate… Diverted somehow by the Kevlar, maybe it got stuck. A lucky break."

"I know you weren't convinced because of all of that blood, despite the x-rays and hours spent in the hospital that proved that I was okay."

"Yeah… didn't penetrate, my ass."

Tony reached into his pocket and produced a rifle round. It was a little beat up but George could tell that it was most likely a full metal jacket. He hadn't seen those since his military days.

Tony tossed it up and George caught it. He then said, "Couldn't fool you, huh? It was a through-and-through, just a few inches from my heart. I never told anyone. Not you, the chief, not even my wife."

"What does this all mean? How are you not dead?"

"Hell if I know. Maybe I'm fucking invincible," Tony replied scratching his head, "I make sure I take point so that no one gets hurt. I can't stand to have anyone go the way Butch did."

George solemnly nodded his head. "So why me? Why'd you tell me over anyone else?"

"I still can't figure that one out. Maybe deep down you're the only I really trust with that kind of information." Tony grinned as he fished his wallet out of his back pocket. He tossed a twenty and headed for the door, "Drinks are on me today." Without turning, Tony gave a mock two-fingered salute and left the bar.

-----

"A spar?" Vergil questioned with a raised eyebrow, "You want to spar… _me?_"

"Yeah. You scared or something," Nero taunted.

"Hardly." Vergil gave the curt response just before taking a sip of his Darjeeling tea. Oh how he loved it. It was always times like these he chose to engage himself in such decadence. He only brought himself to make such a treat when he found himself in a good mood. And with confirmation that Dante was indeed alive and well, he was certainly in a good mood.

These days, they had been so few and far between. Lady had long ago checked out. Well, emotionally anyways. She barely even acknowledged Vergil's presence anymore.

Trish kept quiet. Too quiet. To the blue clad devil, it was quite disconcerting. Vergil knew that he should have never said a word about Nero. Even he couldn't bring himself look at the boy the same way after what he told the blonde demoness. He remembered an old adage about speaking things into fruition.

Why was it so hard? He knew all along and still had not begun to tell Nero. Knowing didn't make things any easier. How would he take it? Would he go off the deep end, Devil Trigger, and take out half of the city in the process?

Vergil was always weighing all outcomes. Always the _if's_ and _when's_. Always so careful.

He inhaled and savored the tea's soft floral aroma.

"You think that just because I'm young, I'm not worth your time in a fight?"

Vergil set his teacup down and made full eye contact with the boy. He could have said more to taunt the boy, get under his skin, damaged his self-esteem, but the look was all he needed. The room had iced over under his glare.

Nero backpedaled, cowering under Vergil's steely gaze. It amazingly scary at how the man before him was like Dante and so different at the same time.

"Dante may have handled you with _kid gloves_ in Fortuna, but I am not my brother. Never be so foolish as to confuse us. I will show you no mercy. If you want to duel with me, then you shall receive it."

Nero gave a grin before suggesting, "Fine. Let's sweeten the deal."

"What do you have in mind?"

"If I win, then you will give me information."

That was the first time Nero even dared to ask Vergil for what he knew. The older man was secretly elated that he didn't have to initiate the teen's natural curiosity. He was just the man who would never strike up a particular issue in conversation; he would wait until others brought it up.

"And what pray tell, might that be?"

"Don't play dumb with me, ol—" Nero paused, pushing his temper back and remembering that he wasn't talking to Dante. "You know something. You are keeping something from me, just like Dante did." His Devil Bringer flared and his human fist shook in bridled anger.

"If it is information you want, then you shall get it. However, what is my prize in the likely event that I do win."

"I wouldn't worry about it, 'cuz you won't," Nero retorted with a sly grin.

"Alright," Vergil drained the remnants of his tea, "Have at it. Get to the rooftop and let's see how far you'll get with that arm of yours." With those last words he gathered up Yamato and took to the fire escape.

-----

Lady had carefully stored the last of her things into the trunk of her rental car. She placed a large duffel bag containing Kalina Ann in the back seat before sliding in to the driver's seat. Lady placed both of her hands on the steering wheel and took a deep calming breath.

She reached into her pocket and fished out the sparkling engagement ring. Lady stared at it as the midday sun sparkled on its many facets. And for the first time, she slid it onto her left ring finger. It was a perfect fit. He knew her well. Lady squeezed her eyes closed to fight the rushing tears, but failed miserably. She sat there and cried; something she had only done twice before; at Temen-in-gru and when Dante first disappeared.

She found the strength to wipe them away with the back of her right hand.

"Pull yourself together," she muttered to her reflection in the rearview mirror.

She went through the glove compartment and produced a myriad of road atlas detailing the routes she would take on her own. She kept it secret, never divulging anything to anyone, least of all to Trish. The blonde had never done anything to physically stop Lady from doing things she set out to do, but in the past, the demoness had been able to successfully talk Lady out of going on most of her planned excursions. And if she hadn't taken up Trish on her many sagely advices, she knew she wouldn't have gotten so close to Dante. She had that strange power about her.

Today was the day she would go. She would not let herself get coaxed into doing something differing from what she had set in stone. She was like a jumper on a ledge, resolute not giving into any negotiations.

It was simple. She was not going to sit on the information that Enzo had brought forth any longer than she had to. She didn't sneak off into the night, like a coward, daylight was burning. The longer she waited the more anxious she got about Dante. What burned her more was that the evidence proved he got along fine without her, while she remained in shambles.

She factored everything; roach motels to catch a few winks, routes and alternates and even the better truck stops. She calculated that if she left on time, she would probably reach Southern Maryland by ten o'clock that night, rest and be ready to tackle the roads to Ohio by four the next morning.

The engine purred to life.

_Three days_, she thought to herself, _three days and I _will _have Dante back_. She shifted the grey Altima into gear and headed south.

* * *

Extreme lateness: Check.

Apologies: Check.

Lack of ownership of franchise: Check. :(

Longest update in a while: Now that's a HUGE Check.

Folks, It's been odd that I haven't had any school this semester, yet I had even less time to sit down and write. (Prepares for flying bricks.) _**¡Lo **__**siento**__**, amigos!**_

We're gonna have such fun next chapter (whenever the hell that gets out)... Gracie told Hailey, "No Bitchassness," Lady's on the warpath AKA "Home Wrecker Mode" and Nero's 'bout to get fucked up!

Soooooo, You likey?


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